


Two Wrongs

by Seanbiggerstaffrox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Bottom Peter Hale, Dubious Consent, Flashbacks, M/M, Shapeshifter, Top Chris Argent, Whump, canon AU, ooc moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seanbiggerstaffrox/pseuds/Seanbiggerstaffrox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Chris' first attempt at a relationship doesn't end well. Their second ends far, far worse when the Chris Peter's with turns out to be a shapeshifter disguised as the hunter. </p><p>Based off <a href="http://moonlettuce.tumblr.com/post/93345062304/i-want-to-have-chris-finally-acknowledge-the">this</a> post by <a href="http://moonlettuce.tumblr.com/">moonlettuce</a> without whom this story wouldn't be possible. </p><p>Story covers flashbacks from 1987-1989 (and 1993/1994) as well as a current timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this](http://moonlettuce.tumblr.com/post/93345062304/i-want-to-have-chris-finally-acknowledge-the) Tumblr post. 
> 
> There's quite a bit of OOC behavior in this fic, I'm gonna own up to that, but I had trouble writing this and keeping Peter evil. So I made him relatively sympathetic.
> 
> ETA: [cantletyouleave](http://cantletyouleave.tumblr.com/) made a wonderful [graphic](http://cantletyouleave.tumblr.com/post/97753250890/two-wrongs-by-seanbiggerstaffrox-x-lenght-37815) for this fic that I think everyone should see.
> 
> Also, I want to add that I can't give enough credit to [moonlettuce](http://moonlettuce.tumblr.com/). She not only allowed me to take her idea/musings and turn them into this story, but she has been utterly supportive and wonderful. 
> 
> And I should also thank [saranghaeshinee](http://saranghaeshinee.tumblr.com/) and [screaming-towards-apotheosis](http://screaming-towards-apotheosis.tumblr.com/) who both leant eyes toward the beginning of this story and let me know that I was on track. 
> 
> Lastly, everyone who already has or, in the future, will leave a comment/kudos/etc. is just totally appreciated. The support means so much to me. 
> 
> So yeah, long note, but this was not a solo effort and I can't emphasize how much the Petopher fandom/that-one-friend-that-betas-for-me-sometimes (looking at you saranghae) have given back. 
> 
> And this is where I end the note by saying (very movingly:) I officially dedicate this story to the Petopher fandom and it's wonderful ship. Happy reading!

**_July 17th, 1989_ **

_Peter stares at the back of the other boy, blinking wide, bewildered eyes._

_“I don’t understand.” He says, pleading for an explanation. “You said you didn’t want to live like that. We were gonna…” He pauses, voice breaking. “We were gonna go away. We applied to colleges.”_

_Chris clenches his fists at his sides, not turning around to face the wolf. “I changed my mind.” He says. His tone’s thick and determined, but Peter thinks he reads pain under there and it only makes him more confused._

_“But why?” Peter presses. “It’s your dad, right? Once you get away from him-”_

_“I don’t want to get away from him!” Chris shouts, finally looking at Peter. His blue eyes are wet with tears and anger. “And what about your sister, huh? You want to lose her? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you run away with a hunter.”_

_“You’re not a hunter.” Peter protests._

_“That’s where you’re wrong.” Chris says._

_Peter’s world tilts. “No, you…Chris, you’re different from them!” He insists._

_“No, I’m not!” Chris shouts. “And neither are you! You’re not different from any other werewolf out there. You’re just another monster.”_

_Peter’s shocked speechless, staring at Chris in betrayal and heartbreak. The hunter’s face flashes in regret._

_“Peter, I-”_

_“Go.” Peter says._

_Chris doesn’t move, hand caught halfway in the air where he reached out toward the wolf._

_“Go!” Peter snarls, eyes flashing. Chris shifts backward immediately before turning and running, fleeing from the distraught creature._

_Peter clutches at his chest, taking in shuddered, shallow breaths as his world spins around him. Tears spring from his eyes, helpless sobs ripping through him. He huffs in desperate inhales. An agonized howl is pulled out of him and he collapses back against the tree behind him, falling on the ground and shielding his head in his knees._

_He should’ve known better than to trust an Argent. He’d been so stupid._

** Two Wrongs: **

Fall leaves collect on the ground, dreary reminders of the impending winter. With summer officially at an end, everyone’s settling into their usual, busy routine and the vitality of the pack has boiled down to a simmer. Things don’t tend to get too energetic with the pack members much anymore, given the constant death and panic, but there’s still a noticeable downfall to them as the seasons change and the days shorten.

Peter steps through the preserve, inhaling the scent of decaying plants. He feels more at home around death nowadays. Part of it has to do with his own foray into the underworld and part of it has to do with the constant presence of ash in his lungs and the eternal smell of burnt flesh. It’s not just the smell of his own, either. The fire is something that haunts both him and Derek, there’s no question about that, but sometimes he resents his nephew. Derek is luckier in his own way, since he didn’t have to suffer through smelling his own family burn to death. The screams are horrid and the guilt eats away at you, but it’s the slow, agonizing minutes of smelling flesh turn to charcoal as screams are ripped from his own family’s lungs that tortures Peter. He can never really get the scent out of his nostrils.

Peter steps between the trees, listening to the heartbeat drawing nearer. He resents the leap in his pulse when he spots Chris waiting for him in the clearing. Peter has to remember not to think of it as _their_ clearing. It hasn’t been their’s in years. Not since before Kate.

Peter often wonders if his relationship with Chris was the reason Kate happened in the first place. He suspects that Chris was originally sent after him, to find out all about the Hales, but he guesses the hunter didn’t have the guts to follow through with anything. He didn’t warn Peter though either. He’s still not sure if he blames Chris or not. He knows the man genuinely loved him at some point, but not enough to choose Peter’s side. In the end, he chose his family over his boyfriend.

_Boyfriend_

Peter hates the term. Not just because it’s common, but because it seems so inaccurate. What they’d had was so much more than that. At least, it felt like that at the time. He’d thought of Chris as his soul mate. And then he’d left and Peter got stuck babysitting Derek and following after Talia, living a mundane life as a faceless member of the pack. He hadn’t even been second-in-command. Or third. He was last, probably. Even the cubs had more say than he did.

He can’t really blame Talia for that. Peter was never meant to stay around anyway. He always claimed he never had anywhere else to go, but the truth is he was just hoping Chris would come back. He’d been lovestruck and stupid. He was pathetic then and he thinks he’s still pathetic now, wrapped around the hunter’s finger. After all, he’s currently traipsing through the woods without a second thought, just because Chris called him.

Peter steps into the clearing. Chris watches him with sparkling blue eyes and Peter ignores the butterflies in his stomach.

“Well, I’m here.” Peter announces, holding his hands out to his side with a flare, as if he’s showing off the goods.

“I can see that.” Chris says, tone mild like usual. “You know where we are?”

“The preserve.” Peter replies, unimpressed. Chris waits, expecting more. “If you want latitude and longitude, you’ll have to consult a map.” The wolf says.

“It used to be our spot.” Chris points out, sending Peter’s heart racing. “Do you remember the way things were? Back in high school?”

Peter takes in a sharp inhale, composing himself after a beat of surprise has him faltering. “What’s to remember? Hormones, acne, awkward fumbling-”

“Us.”

Peter studies the earnestness in Chris’ eyes and snorts. “It’s a bit early in the day to get sentimental.” He says.

Chris frowns. “I’m not…” He trials off, letting out a heavy breath.

Peter feels a flash of sympathy. He buries it quickly. “If you’re coping with your wife’s passing by looking for a rebound, try somewhere else.” He says.

Chris glares at him, fury and pain behind his eyes. He takes a step forward, fingers clenching at his side, then stops himself. “Why do you do that?” He snaps. “Do you think it makes you clever to go around acting like a jackass? To hurt people?”

“What do you want me to do? Hold your hand and tell you everything’s going to be okay?” Peter asks sarcastically.

Chris watches him, considering the offer. “I wouldn’t push you away.” He says.

“That would be a first.” Peter snaps.

“I’m sorry.” Chris says. “I never stopped regretting leaving you. I loved my wife, I love Allison, but you…you were my soul mate.”

Peter’s breath stutters out of him. Chris steps closer and the wolf can feel himself getting drawn in. “Things have changed.” Peter insists. “My priorities have changed.” Peter has his own daughter out there. He has his own family to think about, but Chris is standing right in front of him, offering something Peter has long since given up hope on but still needs right down to his bones. He’s ached for Chris for _years_ and the hunter’s bringing it all up again, staring at him with a soft longing in his eyes that’s roping him in.

“We could make it work, you know.” Chris says. “What we had is still there. I feel it every time I’m around you.” The hunter reaches out toward the wolf, fingers hovering centimeters from him.

It takes all of Peter’s strength to step back. “You know what I feel every time I’m around you?” He asks, putting all of his anger and loathing into his voice. “I feel what it was like to have you walk away from me so you could become a _hunter._ You left me and then you _murdered_ those like me.” Peter snarls. “And before you even think to say it, you destroyed lives long before I did. No matter how many people I’ve killed, you shed blood first. And you sat idly by while your sister burned my entire family. Burned _me._ But you were too busy being daddy’s little boy to give a damn about me or anyone else. That’s what I feel, Chris.”

Chris looks like he’s been slapped and Peter turns, stomping away.

“What about Laura?” Chris says, stopping him in his tracks. “If you’re so righteous, why’d you murder your niece?”

Peter clenches his hands at his side, feeling that familiar wave of nausea and regret. “It was a necessary sacrifice.”

“Was it?” Chris asks. “You can drop the act, Peter. You were never one of the good guys.”

“Then why’d you ever bother with me?” Peter inquires.

“Maybe I’m not such a good guy either.” Chris says.

Peter looks at him over his shoulder, studying his face. Chris is watching him quietly, patiently, and on some level they both realize that Peter’s lost, that he’s just as caught up in the hunter as he’s always been and it’s only a matter of time before he’s crawling back to Chris. Peter’s still stubborn though. He’ll fight this as long as he needs to.

“Well, you know how the old cliché goes: two wrongs don’t make a right.” Peter says. He marches out of the clearing, leaving the hunter staring after him.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

**_September 14 th, 1987_ **

_Peter doesn’t expect anything interesting to come out of junior year. As far as he’s concerned, it’s just another way to pass the time until he can get out of this shithole. He hates Beacon Hills. Family legacy or not, he’s planning on booking it as soon as he’s 18. Maybe sooner if he can get his hands on some money. Talia’s got her claws firmly on the family fortune though, and he doesn’t think she’s going to give anything away until he’s legal._

_He thinks it’s all bullshit. It’s not like she needs him sticking around anyway. There are too many people in the house as it is – nephews, nieces, cousins, uncles and aunts, all piling up over each other in an overwhelming mess. The Hale house might be a mansion, but as it is, he feels like he can’t move five feet without running into someone and he’s desperate for a little independence. He might love them all dearly (something he’d never admit out loud) but that doesn’t mean he wants to deal with them 24/7._

_Peter sighs, shifting in his seat in the front of the room. He never sits in the back. He should, he’s not a particularly impressive student and it would be better for him to retreat where he can tune out and stare out the window, but he likes sitting up front. The teacher’s forced to see how much he doesn’t care that way, and it also means he’s not stuck looking at the backs of his classmates. They’re all frivolous and irritating._

_A boy walks into the room. Peter looks up, finding himself staring into crystal blue eyes. The guy’s gaze lingers on him, something like interest passing over his face. Peter internally rolls his eyes as he lets his attention drift to the blackboard. He’s gotten plenty of attention around the school, girls and closeted guys checking him out and sending longing pheromones in his direction. He’s just been made captain of the basketball team too, so he’s pretty sure the scrutiny’s going to increase. He’s ready for that._

_“Hey.” The guy says, taking a seat next to Peter._

_The wolf looks up. He’s tempted to ignore the guy, but Talia’s drilled him enough on manners and human conduct that he gives a brief nod of acknowledgement to be polite. Hopefully it’s enough to discourage the boy from talking to him any further without making Peter come across like an asshole. He’d rather not go around making enemies, especially when this kid seems like he’s going to be one of the popular crowd. Blond-haired, cordial, athletic, and undeniably handsome – yeah, this guy’s going to make friends real quick and Peter has no intention of being on their bad side just because he wasn’t feeling chatty._

_“I’m Chris.” The guy says, holding his hand out._

_There are other people around. Peter wishes he’d talk to some of them, but for some reason Chris’ attention seems singularly focused on the wolf. “Peter.” He greets, shaking the hand quickly._

_“You got a firm grip.” Chris observes. “You do sports?”_

_This guy’s angling for a conversation. Great._

_“Basketball.” Peter says._

_“You any good?”_

_Peter shrugs. “Well enough.” He says._

_“Petie’s just being modest.” Chuck, one of the team members, speaks up from the row behind him._

_Peter glares back at Chuck. “Peter.” He corrects._

_Chuck smirks. “Whatever Petie. Seriously, he’s the best we got. Just made captain.”_

_“Really?” Chris asks with interest._

_“By the way, I’m Chuck.”_

_“Chris.”_

_Peter relaxes a bit, hoping Chris gets roped into a conversation with Chuck instead of focusing so much on him._

_“You into basketball?” Chuck asks._

_“I’m more of a wrestling type guy.” Chris says. “But I play a good game.”_

_“We’re always looking for new guys. You should come give it a shot.” Chuck says._

_Peter sees Chris studying him and frowns._

_“Yeah, I think I will.” Chris says._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

_Chris sits in the stadium seats, watching as the basketball team practices. Peter gets the team into formation and they play a good game. It’s not great, but they’re still warming up from summer break, so that’s to be expected. He’s sure he’ll have them all together in a couple of weeks. He better, they’re due to play the high school in the next town._

_Some part of his brain catalogues Chris’ movements throughout the practice, the way the guy keeps his eyes focused almost exclusively on Peter and the way he leans forward, watching him steadily. The wolf’s not sure what to make of the scrutiny, especially when it seems so blatant. Most guys who stare do so in a sort of dazed, admiring way, usually catching themselves before they can broadcast their interest. Chris doesn’t try to be subtle, which is jarring enough as it is, but there’s something about the way he stares too. He doesn’t just watch, he observes, like he’s been trained in it, and Peter isn’t sure if it’s some weird Sherlock type shit or if this guy’s working an angle. Peter would offer to fuck him just to scare him into backing off, but he’s pretty sure that would just encourage Chris and he’s not actually interested. The guy’s good looking, but Peter’s not an idiot. People tend to get pretty worked up about the whole dude-on-dude thing and if this guy’s obvious now, he’d be way worse if they actually had something going._

_Practice ends. The team and coach hang back and Chris comes down to the court. Coach said he’d give the guy a shot when practice was over, if he was still interested. The guy missed tryouts, but coach is making a special case since they could use more team mates._

_“Chris…what’s your last name?” Coach asks._

_“Argent.”_

_Peter frowns. The name rings familiar, but he’s not sure why._

_“Okay, Argent, Hale’s gonna take you for a spin. See what you’re capable of.”_

_Chris smirks. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He says quietly and Peter’s jaw clenches. The guy’s flirting with him now. Pretty obviously too, and Peter wonders if this guy has any sense of self preservation. Even if he didn’t, he’s turning Peter into a target too. Irritation flares in the wolf’s gut._

_Peter and Chris face off in the middle of the court and coach blows the whistle. Peter holds back initially, fighting his wolf instincts and going easy on the guy. He watches with wide eyes as Chris moves quickly, muscles strong and stiff as he maneuvers his body like a ballet dancer, sinking the ball through the net easily._

_The team cheers._

_“Point to Argent.” Coach says._

_They face off again and Peter still holds back, watching Chris to see what happens._

_“Point to Argent. Come on, Hale, put some effort into it.” Coach says._

_“Kind of disappointed, Petie.” Chris says when they face off again. “Thought you’d try a little harder.”_

_Peter lets out a huff. He lets go a bit, stealing the ball easily. Chris blocks him halfway to the net and Peter tries to move around him. Chris isn’t fazed by Peter’s reflexes and he furrows his brows, wondering how this guy’s managing to keep up. He stops trying to get around him and takes his shot, watching it sink into the basket victoriously._

_“That’s more like it!” Coach shouts excitedly._

_“Pretty impressive.” Chris concedes, taking in the distance between Peter and the basket._

_They reunite in the middle of court, going one against one. Peter puts more energy into it this time and manages to block Chris’ shot, stealing the ball and taking off down the court. Chris catches up to him easily, defending the net and catching Peter’s throw mid-air._

_Chris’ arms lift up and his body moves, blowing up a slight breeze, and under the smell of deodorant and teenage boy, Peter catches the faint scent of mountain ash. His blood runs cold and he freezes, eyes widening when it finally comes to him._

_Argent. Hunter._

_Chris stops going to the other net when he notices that Peter’s still stuck in place. The wolf looks over, staring at the hunter in horrified realization._

_“Hale, what’s the holdup?” Coach asks._

_“Nothing, coach. My bad.” Peter says, resuming the practice. When it’s over, he leaves quickly, avoiding his team and fleeing before Chris can say anything to him. He catches Talia talking about the Argents later that night, talking about how the hunters are back in town. He doesn’t mention that there’s one in his class. There’s nothing they can do about it anyway._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Peter lasts for a few months. Chris doesn’t do anything aggressive, but he breaks the wolf slowly, drawing him in with knowing looks and soft words. He never does anything obvious, he just stands a fraction closer or talks a little lower, a little deeper. His voice hovers this edge of husky and it’s nothing major, but Peter feels it vibrate against his nerves.

Chris stares, too, watching him with crystal blue eyes. Peter tries to focus his attention on other things. He observes Malia, silently disapproving of her relationship with Stiles but staying out of it. He sticks to pack business and, when that leaves him starved for entertainment, he fixes things up in his apartment. It’s a routine that sustains him for a while, but eventually he’s giving in, letting Chris run rough hands over his skin. He tries to ignore the knowledge that the man’s palms are calloused from weaponry and fighting, that his age has blood attached. Peter’s own hands are just as dirtied.

It’s desperate fumbling at first, but Peter finds, much to his surprise, that Chris’ touch chases away the feeling of flames that linger on the wolf’s skin. His voice silences the screams that echo in his ears and his naked skin is a salve to Peter’s wounds. When Chris fingers him, Peter falls back and gasps, releasing ash from his lungs and letting fresh air in. When Chris fucks him, Peter holds onto the hunter, letting out pleased growls as he’s filled up in more ways than one. He throws his head back, a full body orgasm racing through him. Chris encourages it, drawing it out as much as possible and moaning Peter’s name.

Afterwards is awkward. Chris asks him to stay, but Peter tries to play it off, pretending that it doesn’t mean anything and that he doesn’t want to hide himself away in the hunter’s arms. It isn’t until the fifth time that Peter finally stays, and they manage to traverse the Morning After with significantly less uneasiness than they could have. The only bad moment is on the second Morning After when Allison walks in and gapes at Peter and her dad. She flees and Peter wonders if that’s the end of it.

Chris’ solution is to have a talk with her and then suddenly Peter and Chris are dating. They’re in a relationship. The whole pack learns about it from Allison and Peter learns about it from Derek, because before that he was convinced it was all casual. He doesn’t say anything to Chris, he just lets it happen.

By the time the pack’s starting their senior year, Peter has moved into the Argents’ apartment. It’s a weird sort of happiness that has Peter more edgy than content, because he’s just not sure it will last.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

**_September 15 th, 1987_ **

_“You left practice pretty quick the other day.” Chris says._

_“Yeah, I had to get home.” Peter mutters._

_“You live in that mansion on the edge of town, right?” Chris asks._

_Peter gives Chris a dark, searching look, warning bells going off in his mind._

_“I heard some of the guys talking about it.” Chris explains._

_It doesn’t make Peter feel any better, but he tries to transform his expression into something less suspicious. It wouldn’t do to let on that he knows who Chris is. “What about it?” He asks._

_“Nothing. Just never really knew anyone who lived in a mansion before.”_

_“Well, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” Peter murmurs, glaring down at his notebook. It’s a new one, because Laura threw up on his after she and Harold broke into the candy stash the night before. Which means Peter didn’t sleep well either, because Harry was hyper for hours and wouldn’t settle. It’s another downside to sharing a room with his 8-year-old nephew. Peter hates it. They were supposed to clear out the basement for the teenage Hale by the end of the summer, but pack stuff came up and it’s only half done. He’d gotten some paint for it, but it’s been in the garage for months, and he thinks by the time they get the room done, he’ll be graduating. That or another baby will come along and Peter and Harry will end up sharing the basement room too. Peter sighs._

_“Problems?” Chris asks._

_Peter’s about to snub him with an off-handed comment, but he figures it couldn’t hurt too much to let off some steam. “My nephew’s annoying.” He says. It’s not a lot of steam, but he manages to skim a little off the top just by saying the thought out loud._

_“I have a sister.” Chris says. “She’s four. Annoying as sin.”_

_“What’s her name?” Peter asks. It’s partially out of mild interest, partially just to make conversation, and mostly because he realizes he can get some information on the Argents’ this way. Maybe being around Chris isn’t such a bad idea._

_“Kate.” Chris says and just the way he says it reveals how irritating he finds her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love her, she’s my sister. But sometimes I just want to…”_

_“Run away?” Peter finishes._

_“I was gonna say strangle her, but yeah, that too.” Chris replies._

_Peter buries the realization that maybe he and Chris aren’t that different. Class starts and he tries to ignore the way Chris keeps glancing at him, something blooming behind blue irises. They’re not friends, Peter tells himself. He doesn’t want to be this guy’s friend. He’s just going to get some information out of him, that’s all._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Allison walks into the kitchen, still in her pajamas and yawning. Her eyes are closed and she’s shuffling around in Hello Kitty slippers, managing to stay balanced on the smooth tiles. Peter’s still not sure she isn’t part supernatural.

“Here.” He hands her a bowl of cereal and she finally parts her eyelids.

“Thanks.” She mutters, taking the food and pouring in milk. She’s not even surprised anymore when Peter does something domestic. He’s a little worried that they’re starting to develop some sort of familial bond. He already looks at her like family, and she’s actually started to come to him with problems on occasion. They’re still distant for the most part, but it’s working its way toward something significant and he’s not sure what to make of it. “Where’s dad?”

“He got a phone call from a client.” Peter explains, spreading jelly on a slice of bread. Allison’s old enough to make her own lunch, but Peter’s taken to doing it anyway. She stopped complaining when she realized he tends to slip money into the bag. Just in case, he always says, adding a chocolate bar as well.

Peter yawns, taken off guard by how tired he is. He thinks he’s started getting too comfortable in his routine lately, because he’s been growing more and more restful. Maybe it’s just because he and Chris are still in the honeymoon phase, over-sexed and blissed out. They’re going to be in it a while longer, judging by the engagement ring he found in Chris’ desk. He knows it isn’t a relic from his former marriage, because it’s brand new. They also have a reservation for dinner this Friday, so Peter’s pretty sure that’s the big moment. He can’t say he’s overjoyed, but he’s not protesting. He’s not much of anything really.

Hesitantly Happy is how he’d probably categorize himself. And Domestically Fatigued, he adds, giving another yawn.

“Scott’s been tired a lot too.” Allison observes, looking more awake now that she’s had a few spoonfuls of breakfast.

“Has he?” Peter asks. He hasn’t seen much of the pack in the last few days. He thinks he ought to give Derek a visit. They haven’t grown any more comfortable with each other in time, but he enjoys the look of annoyance on his nephew’s face every time he shows up, so it makes the trips worth it.

“Yeah. He’s also been sick.” Allison says. “Can werewolves get sick?”

“Like the flu?” Peter looks back at her, frowning.

“Yeah.”

He tilts his head, considering. He slices Allison’s sandwich diagonally and puts it in a container. “It’s possible.” He concludes. “Rare. But Scott’s always gone against expectation.”

Allison’s lips twitch fondly as she thinks of the wolf.

“Even werewolves can overwork themselves.” Peter says, tossing money and chocolate into Allison’s lunch bag. He put carrots in there too, even though he knows she probably won’t eat them.

“I suppose.” Allison says. She takes the sack from him and dumps her bowl in the sink.

After she leaves for school, Peter swings by Derek’s loft. He asks after Scott and Derek just shrugs noncommittally.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

**_October 31 st, 1987_ **

_Peter hates Halloween. He’s not sure how he let Chuck talk him into coming to a Halloween party, but he regrets it as soon as they get into the house. Everyone’s dancing and drinking, getting up to the usual teenage mayhem while donning festive costumes that leave Peter gritting his teeth. He rolls his eyes when he spots another ‘werewolf’ and he sips on his beer, regretting that he can’t get plastered._

_For a brief moment, he debates leaving but then he remembers that the only other place he could go is home and he’d rather not get stuck babysitting a bunch of hyperactive cubs on a Saturday night. Or any night really, but doing it over the weekend just makes him feel like he has no life whatsoever. And watching them all freak out over Halloween just reminds him of how long it’s been since he enjoyed the holiday. Not since their parents died and Talia took over the pack._

_Peter slips out of the back door with a sigh and moves to the yard. He can hear faint moans from couples hidden in the bushes, but there’s no one immediately in sight. He can manage to trick himself into feeling alone as he leans against the house, sipping his drink and watching the swings on the swingset shift in the breeze._

_Conversation from a nearby hedge drifts over to him._

_“Oh shit.” A guy curses. Peter catches the smell of spunk and wrinkles his nose._

_“Already?” A girl asks. “You didn’t even put it in yet.”_

_“Shut up, Cindy.”_

_“Don’t tell me to shut up.”_

_“Come on, Cindy, don’t get mad. Please don’t tell anyone.”_

_Peter shakes his head, smirking into his bottle. Cindy works her way out of the bush and stomps past. One of the guys from the team trails after her earnestly and Peter tucks his head down, smiling softly to himself as they go by._

_“You look happy.” Chris says, slipping out of the back and sidling up next to him. He smells like alcohol and is slightly flushed, having drunk just enough to get buzzed without become fully inebriated. “Share with the class.” He says, gesturing with his bottle before lifting it to his lips._

_Peter and Chris get along alright now. They’re kind of friends, surprisingly, even though Peter’s tried to maintain his distance. He hasn’t forgotten that Chris’ family are hunters._

_“Just something I overheard.” Peter says in answer. Chris raises his eyebrows, prompting Peter to explain. “A dispute of a sexual nature.” He says. “Involving the words premature and ejaculation.”_

_“Ah.” Chris says, grinning. “My sympathies to both parties.” He says, toasting his beer._

_Peter shakes his head._

_“So what are you doing out here by yourself?” Chris asks. He leans against Peter, torso a warm presence against the wolf’s side._

_“I like being by myself.” Peter replies._

_“Do you? Or do you just not like being around other people?”_

_Peter frowns. “They’re the same thing, aren’t they?”_

_Chris tilts his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. Enjoying being by yourself means that no matter how pleasant the company, you’d rather be alone, you know? Not liking other people means the problem’s with them and that if you found the company pleasant, you’d be more inclined to have it. For instance, if your options were being alone or spending time with, say, a strapping young man with blond hair and blue eyes you would choose…?”_

_The wolf stares at Chris, thrown by the guy’s flirtation. Peter’s lips spread in a slow, amused smile and he looks away, staring back out at the swingset. “You know, you send the wrong message when you say stuff like that.” He points out, drinking his beer for lack of something better to do. His heart’s skipping in his chest and his stomach’s turning in nervous coils._

_“Oh? And what’s that?” Chris asks, propping himself up against the house and watching the wolf with interest._

_Peter glances at him, debating his answer. “That maybe you’re into me.” He says finally, figuring he might as well come out with it. “You can’t just go around flirting with peo-”_

_Chris’ lips press against his, cutting Peter’s words off. The wolf’s eyes widen in surprise at the warm press of the other guy’s mouth. His heart stutters to a halt and his grip on his beer loosens. The bottle tips and Chris breaks away with a surprised gasp, looking down at the liquid spilled over his pants._

_Peter blinks, staring in shock at the space Chris occupied earlier. His lips tingle and he licks them nervously, face burning at the taste of alcohol and Chris’ mouth. He feels too warm now in the cool night air and butterflies are swarming in his abdomen. “Shit, sorry.” He mutters, staring at Chris’ soaked clothes._

_Chris is laughing, amused. “It was gonna happen sometime tonight. I’ve never been to a party and not gotten alcohol spilled on me.”_

_“Oh. Right.” Peter says, looking down at the ground and biting his lip. He shouldn’t be shy. He’s Peter Hale, he doesn’t do shy, but he wishes the ground would swallow him up._

_“Hey.” Chris says, stepping forward and pressing his fingers gently to Peter’s jaw. The wolf looks up quickly, eyes wide. “You okay?”_

_Peter stiffens. “Of course.” He says defensively. He’s not fragile. He can take care of himself. He expects Chris to step away at his rough demeanor but the guy just grins._

_“I’ll let you spill more beer on me if you let me kiss you again.” He offers._

_Peter’s lips part, voice catching in his throat when he’s not sure what to say to that. Chris leans a fraction closer and Peter finally finds his words. “Someone will notice.” He points out. There are windows all over the house and they’re right next to the back door. Someone could walk out at any moment and see them._

_“Come on.” Chris says, grabbing his wrist. He pauses to place both of their beers on the windowsill then leads Peter around the side of the house._

_“Where are we going?” Peter hisses._

_“Shed.” Chris says._

_Peter sees the shack a few feet away. “Don’t think we’re supposed to go in there.” He mutters._

_“Which is exactly why we’re going in there.” Chris points out. “No one’s gonna walk in on us.”_

_Peter’s heart leaps. His skin heats even further and he almost trips when Chris looks back at him with twinkling blue eyes. He’s not sure how they progressed this far. Last he checked they weren’t even friends and now Chris is taking him somewhere they can’t be disturbed._

_Chris takes out a paperclip and puts it into the knob, fiddling with the lock until the door opens._

_Peter raises his eyebrows and is about to point out that B &E’s a crime, but Chris pushes him into the rusty old shack. It’s full of old tools and buckets and there’s not a lot of room. Chris closes the door behind him and steps closer to Peter. There are broken, faded windows, letting moonlight stream in. It lights Chris in a halo and Peter’s breath hitches. _

_Chris moves into his space, putting strong palms on Peter’s hips and stepping in close to him. “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you.” Chris confesses._

_Peter licks his lips and Chris’ eyes track the movement. The wolf’s not sure what to say. He can’t exactly offer the same sentiment, but he knows he definitely wants to do this now. Whatever this is. It’s coming up on him as a surprise, though, so he’s not as composed as Chris. At least, that’s how he rationalizes the fact that Chris is the one taking charge and not him._

_“Lots of good looking guys at the school.” Peter points out, staring down at Chris’ mouth as the guy moves in closer to him._

_“Don’t want a guy. Just want you.” Chris says._

_Peter’s face burns hot and Chris leans in, pushing their mouths together. Peter’s fingers flex uselessly at his sides and his eyelids flutter shut. He presses back against Chris, feeling the other guy’s lips move against his own. A soft noise escapes him when Chris’ tongue joins the connection, tracing along his bottom lip. The wolf’s hands come up, fisting Chris’ t-shirt._

_Chris threads fingers through Peter’s hair and deepens the kiss, letting out a hungry noise as he explores Peter’s mouth. The wolf’s brows furrow as he gasps, clinging desperately onto the guy while his knees go weak. He’s made out with a couple people, so he’s no virgin to kissing, but this is like nothing he’s ever felt before. He wants to bare his neck for Chris. He wants to let the guy take him to whole new heights of pleasure. It’s both terrifying and wonderful._

_Chris slips fingers under Peter’s shirt, tracing over heated skin, and Peter feels a jolt go through him. He whimpers into Chris’ mouth._

_“Uncle Peter?” There’s a knock on the shed and Peter frowns. Chris breaks away from him and they both look at the entrance curiously. “Uncle Pete! You in there!”_

_“Laura?” Peter asks. Chris steps away from him and Peter moves around the guy awkwardly, aware of the smell of hormones in the shed. He hopes Laura doesn’t understand what it means. He opens the door, staring incredulously down at his niece. “Hey kiddo, what are you doing here?” He asks, kneeling down._

_“Trick-or-treating! Mom, I found him!” Laura calls, looking in the distance. Peter peers around the door frame and sighs when he sees his sister._

_“Peter. We have some family business.” Talia says pointedly._

_That means Peter’s babysitting whether he wants to or not. Damn it._

_“Peter, who’s that?” Laura asks._

_Peter looks back at Chris, who’s watching them with a frown. “It’s a friend.” He says, heart racing. He prays Talia doesn’t notice anything amiss about either of them when they step out. She’s not totally on board with dating humans as it is and if she realizes he’s a hunter, she’ll flip. “Chris, this is my niece. Laura.”_

_Peter picks the girl up as he exits the shed. Chris follows after, smiling at her._

_“Hey Laura.” He says._

_“I, uh, gotta go.” Peter says._

_Chris nods. “That your sister?” He asks, gesturing at Talia._

_The alpha’s watching them with stern eyes and Peter tries to act normal._

_“Yeah. Uh, sorry about this.”_

_“No, it’s cool. Go, be with your family.” Chris says. “I’ll see you at school?”_

_“Yeah, school.”_

_Peter holds Laura and hurries after Talia. “I thought Mary was watching them.”_

_“Something came up.” Talia says. “Hunters went after Joshua.”_

_Peter chews his cheek. “Where are the other kids?” He asks._

_“Back at the house. Haley’s keeping the fort down.” Talia says. Haley’s the second oldest, just shy of eleven. Peter can’t wait till she’s older and she gets to watch everyone. “But Laura wanted to come see her Uncle Peter.” Talia says fondly, petting her daughter’s cheek. Laura bounces in Peter’s grip._

_“I’m a witch!” Laura exclaims, looking up at Peter excitedly._

_“Very spooky.” Peter replies._

_“Who was your friend?” Talia asks._

_“Guy from school. He’s on the basketball team.”_

_Talia nods. “You should be careful.” She warns._

_“I know. I am.” Peter promises. He’s surprised when it registers as a lie._

_Talia frowns, nostrils flaring at the smell of deception._

_“I will.” Peter corrects quickly, vowing to be more cautious from now on. It’s one thing to know that Chris is a hunter, but his family’s actually hunting now. For all Peter knows, Chris is in on it. Maybe he realizes who Peter is and is coming after him on purpose._

_Peter’s snapped from his thoughts when Laura urges them to stop so she can ring the doorbells of the neighboring houses. Talia bids goodbye, hurrying ahead as Peter gets stuck with impromptu trick-or-treating._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

It’s Friday. Scott’s still sick, Allison’s off with Isaac, and Peter’s about to become engaged.

The wolf’s sipping his white wine, watching his partner shift slightly across from him. It’s the closest Chris comes to nervous fidgeting and it would mean nothing if Peter didn’t know him so well. There’s also the fact that Peter already found the ring. He got one of his own, just in case Chris gets cold feet and backs out. He’s kind of hoping that’s how it goes, just so he can see the surprise on the man’s face.

Chris does work up the nerve to propose, though. He doesn’t make a production of it. He doesn’t even get out of his seat, he just hands the jewelry box to Peter during dessert.

“Oh, what could this be?” Peter says, trying to feign surprise.

“I know you found it, jackass.” Chris says. “Come on, give me yours.” He says, holding his hand out expectantly.

Peter snorts. “Snoop.” He accuses, pulling the gift out of his jacket pocket.

“You’re one to talk.” Chris replies, taking the box and opening it. It’s a simple band, nothing too showy or attention-seeking. Peter got it to match the one Chris bought.

The wolf slips the gold hoop around his ring finger, smiling softly. Neither of them has to actually say yes. The answer’s obvious enough when they both put the jewelry on and then they’re talking about other things, conversing over cake before going home and tumbling into bed together.

They don’t ask about surnames, because that’s bound to end in an argument. Both of them are too attached by family loyalties to be willing to take on the other’s name. They could probably hyphenate, but Peter thinks the Hale and Argent monikers come with enough crap on their own and he’s not eager to find out what kind of bullshit bringing them together is likely to cause. Plus he’d prefer to retain some dignity in the supernatural world and introducing himself as Peter Hale-Argent would be counterproductive.

They make love, slow and sweet, and lay together in the aftermath. Chris caresses the band on Peter’s finger and pets his hands through the wolf’s hair.

“I love you.” Chris says.

Peter presses a kiss against the hunter’s skin. He can’t really say it back, not yet, but Chris seems to understand.

The door to the apartment opens and Peter tilts his head. “Allison’s home.” He says. He frowns at the huffing and shuffling. “She’s not alone.”

Chris looks at him questioningly and slips out of bed. Peter follows, throwing sweats on and grabbing a v-neck. He slips it over his head and chases after a shirtless Chris, who’s pulled on jeans and has grabbed a gun from his nightstand.

Peter sniffs. “Mountain ash.” He grumbles, eyeing the firearm. “I thought we talked about that.”

“Seriously, Peter?” Chris asks. “Now’s not the time.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “You always say that.”

“Well this time I mean it.”

Peter smells blood and poison wafting from the living room. He steps around the hunter, giving the gun a wide berth, and proceeds into the area. Scott’s on the sofa, looking pale and sickly. Allison’s kneeling over him, rubbing sweaty hair out of his temples. Isaac and Lydia hover behind her.

“I got it!” Stiles shouts, racing into the room with grocery bags full of medicine and over the counter remedies. “One of these things is bound to work.” He dumps the cargo on the coffee table and eyes his friend nervously. “I mean, it’s just a cold, he’s not poisoned, so it’s gotta be, like, something you can give medicine for.”

Chris stands beside Peter, watching the group curiously.

“Dad, something’s wrong with him.” Allison says, eyes wet.

Malia and Kira come into the room and Peter eyes his daughter cautiously. She still doesn’t know that she has any relation to him. He’s not sure he’ll ever tell her at this point, but he still feels a wave of concern go through him when he smells blood on her.

“Are you alright?” He asks Malia while Chris rushes over to inspect Scott.

Malia frowns, confused. “Fine.” She says, shrugging.

Peter sees Lydia eyeing him knowingly from across the room and turns his attention over to Chris and Scott. The teen’s eyes are closed and he’s shivering. He flinches when Chris touches him and the hunter shushes the wolf, studying his face.

“What is it?” Allison asks.

Chris shakes his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” He confesses.

“We should call Deaton.” Stiles says.

Peter yawns, stifling it behind his hand and he doesn’t miss the glares sent his way. He’s not bored he’s just…tired. Exhausted, actually. In better shape than Scott though.

“What happened?” Peter asks.

The pack exchange lost expressions.

“We don’t know.” Kira says.

“There was this thing.” Isaac adds. “It just come out of nowhere.”

“It looked like shadows.” Lydia says.

“Like a void.” Stiles pipes up. “But humanoid.”

Peter frowns.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

**_October 31 st, 1987_ **

_“That’s not fair!” Trevor’s whining, gesturing at Laura’s full candy bag. Peter huffs in irritation. He’s stuck with a mob of kids, all 11 or under, and they’re all frustrated that Laura got extra trick-or-treating. Haley’s the only one who isn’t whining or causing trouble. She’s become something of Peter’s helper recently, trying to show how responsible she is so her mom ups her allowance. Peter takes what he can get._

_“Laura, why don’t you share?” Peter suggests._

_Laura looks up at him heartbroken. “It’s my candy. I earned it.” She says._

_“I know, sweetheart. But you want to be alpha someday, right?” He says. Laura nods eagerly. “Remember what your mom says ‘A good alpha –“_

_“Has power, a great alpha shares it.’” Laura finishes, parroting her mother’s words. She tips her treat bag, dumping the candy onto the floor and glaring at her uncle._

_Peter watches the other cubs go for the candy with a sense of relief. That’s another small victory for the night. He’s had a few of them, starting with the fact that he got the kids to stay in the same room in the first place. And he managed to get the twins to stop tearing at the curtains. He gave up trying to get everyone to sleep, even though it’s two in the morning and he’s feeling exhausted. It’s difficult to stay on task, too, when part of him is still back in the shed, pressed up against Chris. It’s stupid, and he realizes he’s on a bad course, but he can’t seem to stop the tingling in his lips or the way he’s looking forward to school on Monday._

_He wonders how far they would have gone in the shed if they hadn’t been interrupted. He sighs wistfully._

_“Peter?” Laura asks, chewing on a lollypop._

_Peter hums._

_“How come you’re not gonna be alpha?”_

_The wolf blinks, looking at his niece in surprise. “Because… I don’t want to be.” He says. He was never made for being an alpha anyway and if he gets out of here soon enough, his chances of being one are nil. It’s part of the reason he’s so eager to leave._

_“Why not?” Laura asks._

_That’s a harder question to answer. Peter doesn’t speak his thoughts, doesn’t say that he hates Beacon Hills and that he doesn’t want to get stuck taking care of all of them anyway. He can’t even go to a damn party without them getting in the way, so he definitely doesn’t want to be responsible for them all the time. His life’s too restricted being around them. Hell, he can’t even masturbate with them in the house. Even if he wasn’t sharing a room with horrible Harry, they all have superhuman hearing._

_It’s stifling and he wants to go out and do more with his life than rot away in Beacon Hills._

_Peter’s saved from answering the question when he hears the front door open. Even from the second storey, he can smell injury and mountain ash. He urges the cubs to wait in the room and sidles out, staring down from the top of the staircase as the pack drags in Joshua, who’s been shot. He’s bleeding out and near death and Peter watches as Deaton hurries in after them._

_“Uncle Peter?” Laura asks, appearing by him._

_Peter mentally curses and swoops her up. “Come on, let’s go back in the room.” He says, hurrying back. He closes the door behind him and tries to keep the cubs distracted, thinking all the while that he ought to stay far away from Chris and the Argents._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Deaton’s not much help and they end up having to move Scott to Derek’s loft. He fades in and out, sick as a dog and getting worse as the days pass. Peter doesn’t miss the panicked aroma emanating from Allison.

Everyone visits Scott frequently and tries to hunt down the thing in the meantime. They find it eventually and Peter’s eyes widen when he realizes what it is. Allison takes it out with a silver arrow. It shrieks, burbling and whining until it dissolves into flesh and goo on the ground.

“What is it?” Derek says, staring at the organ soup.

“Shapeshifter.” Peter says.

Everyone looks at him. He sighs, giving a brief explanation that feels unnecessary. Except for one bit, that has his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

“They always travel in pairs.” Peter says. “And they can feed off a victim.”

“What do you mean?” Allison asks. Chris is quiet beside her, glaring and holding his gun tightly.

“It’s like a poison. They latch onto a certain life force and they feed from it. Someone strong. Noble. Powerful. Someone like-”

“Scott.” Allison mutters in realization.

“Exactly.”

They visit the wolf, who hasn’t gotten any better, and Peter eyes the pack, wondering if there’s a shapeshifter among them. It’s not likely, but the creatures can avoid a wolf’s senses. He wouldn’t even notice if the pack got infiltrated.

Chris takes him home. When they have sex that night, it’s rougher than usual. It’s hard and fast and Peter’s left feeling cold and used. He’s not entirely averse to the feeling, but he doesn’t like the way Chris leaves when it’s over, and he stares at the wall, solitude falling around him like ash.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Peter’s in Derek’s loft, watching Scott with veiled concern. They’ve never really talked about Scott’s turning. The bizarre relationship between them goes largely unacknowledged, but that doesn’t stop Peter from feeling the connection. He turned Scott, so that bond’s always going to be that much stronger. He feels guilty as he watches the teen convulse on the sofa. He’s started having seizures now. Peter can smell how close he is to death.

Derek tries desperately to get him through it and Isaac’s standing close by, providing as much assistance as he can. They don’t have much use for Peter. Chris is at his side, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

The elevator squeaks along its hinges as it ascends. The werewolves perk up slightly, but their attention doesn’t waver from Scott. People have been coming and going all week as it is and it’s the evening, so more of the pack is bound to show up. The doors open and Peter glances up as a reflex. It should only last a second, long enough for him to take stock of the new arrivals before returning his attention to his beta-turned-alpha, but Stiles, Allison, and Malia are charging in covered in dirt and looking determined. The sheriff follows, shouldering a man in.

It’s surreal watching Chris Argent get dragged into the room. He’s filthy and emaciated, glassy eyes staring out from hollow features. Peter feels the hand on his shoulder leave and he stands frozen, brain flickering and faltering around the realization that pours over him.

One of the Chris’s is a shapeshifter. Peter wishes, hopes, _prays_ with everything he has that it’s the one they’re pulling into the room, but he sees the glare on Allison’s face and the resolve in everyone’s jaw. Peter looks back at the Chris he’s spent months living with.

“You-” He starts, but he can’t get anything else out. It makes sense now, how tired he’s been. This thing’s been feeding off of him. Using him. Peter feels nauseous. They’d made love this morning. This thing _touched_ him. He feels dirty.

“You’re gonna kill me now.” Shapeshifter Chris says, watching them all. Fear trickles into his gaze, but he swallows it down, burying it under another emotion. He smirks. “Pity, I was having so much fun.”

Allison holds up her arrow, finger twitching on the trigger, but she doesn’t fire yet. “Why?” She asks, voice breaking. “Why my dad?”

“I caught him first.” The shapeshifter shrugs. “Oh, but I’m glad it was him. When poor little Scott got sick, nobody suspected the hunter. Scott figured it out of course, when he caught me sneaking into his room, but he was too sick to talk by that point.” Fake Chris grins. “But that wasn’t even the best part.” He says, turning to the eldest Hale. “You. Oh, you were fun.”

Peter grits his teeth, stiffening when the shapeshifter rakes his eyes over Peter’s form.

“I’d always heard about you – the terrifying Peter Hale. But you’re really a big softy underneath it all. I mean, imagine my delight when I tapped into Chris’ head and I saw all those memories. High school sweethearts you two were.”

Peter clenches his jaw harder, knowing it’s the first time anyone’s learning of it. Not even Derek knew.

“You had a real Romeo and Juliet thing going.” Fake Chris says. “And poor, pathetic little Peter. You’re still so hung up on him. He left you. He moved on. He doesn’t want you, but you still spread yourself so easily. Like a little whore, just desperate to feel like you’re not just another piece of trash lying in the gutter. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill you but you’ll still take it up the ass just to feel like you’re worth something.”

There’s a growl from behind him. Over Fake Chris’ shoulder, Peter sees the pack’s reflection in the window. There’s pity in their faces. He doesn’t want pity. He’s not some pathetic, love-starved teen, he’s a wolf, a former alpha, a predator. He’s not an easy fuck. He’s not an idiot. He’s not a tragedy. He’s a monster. He’s the reason hunters exist, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let this transform him into some pitiful, powerless wretch in their eyes.

Fuck the last year. Fuck the family he’d found. Fuck everything.

Peter digs his claws in, snarling ferociously as he rips through the fake Chris’ lungs. He tears the shapeshifter to shreds, a blur of guts and gore that leaves him covered from head to toe. The creature dies in the middle of it, but Peter keeps going, ripping its whole structure into individual fibers that bubble and melt against the loft floor. It’s a puddle of carnage by the end, with an engagement ring sitting in the middle. Peter rips his own band off and tosses is into the goop.

He huffs, glaring at the pack and daring them to feel bad for him. They stare at him in shock and horror and he feels dark satisfaction curl in his chest. He sees Chris slumped on the floor, watching him with wide eyes.

“Welcome back.” He says, surprisingly calm. It’s the feel of carnage on his hands, of revenge, that has him more relaxed than he ought to be. It satisfies something primal in him and he walks past the pack, past Allison and Malia, two daughters that feel like his but aren’t. He leaves them all behind. He goes to an apartment he hasn’t gotten rid of yet. He’s still got another couple of months on the year-long lease and, though most of his stuff is at the Argent’s, he has enough to get by. He at least has the shower.

He doesn’t rinse the gore off immediately though. He just stomps around the rooms, angry and restless and twitching his fingers over bits of shapeshifter. He has enough control over himself not to smash anything, even though he wants to. He runs his hands through his hair and refuses to sit down. He had enough time sitting in the hospital for six years. He doesn’t want that feeling again – sitting and stewing in anger. He wants to move. He wants to run.

Peter showers, getting the blood off finally. He doesn’t feel any cleaner when he’s done and he throws some sweats and a hoodie on from one of his lingering boxes of things. He goes outside and he runs. He heads in the opposite direction of the loft and the Argent’s apartment. He goes in the direction of the town next to Beacon Hills, of places away from this crap. His baggage comes with him, even as he gets out of the city limits and into the neighbouring town. He carries it in his chest, creating grooves and hollows for it to fit in.

Sadness, anger, and emptiness war with each other, taking over anything remotely like happiness or fulfillment. He tastes ash and hears screams. He feels his skin sting with sweat from his exercise, but it feels like fire, like he’s being cooked alive again. Everything _hurts._

 


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made a booboo in the last chapter. When I originally uploaded Part 1, I had Peter in sophomore year instead of junior year (because I kind of forgot junior year existed, oops.) I realized the mistake pretty quick, but I thought I'd leave this note just in case so no one gets confused. Peter and Chris are Juniors in 1987, not sophomores. (Otherwise the timeline doesn't work.)
> 
> Also, there's some Peter/Original Character here which I didn't think to warn for. My bad. 
> 
> And I hope everyone continues to like this as much as they liked the first chapter (I can't thank you guys enough for leaving comments. You are superstars)

**_November 2 nd, 1987_ **

_Peter moans, head falling back as Chris kisses his way down the wolf’s throat. His plan to stay away from Chris hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped and now they’re in the rear seat of Chris’ Cadillac, making out while the radio plays in the background. Peter listens idly to the music as Chris lays down on top of him._

_“This song’s terrible.” Peter observes, fingers gripping at Chris’ shirt._

_“Funky Town?” Chris asks, pulling his lips away from Peter. The wolf sighs in disappointment, head arching back unintentionally to encourage the guy to return. Chris smirks, leaning down and trailing his mouth over Peter’s jaw. “Just watch, in ten years it’ll be a classic.”_

_Peter hums doubtfully. “You’ve lived in places other than Beacon Hills, right?” He asks._

_“Yeah.” Chris says, nibbling at Peter’s ear. The wolf bites his lip, fighting the urge to arch up into Chris. He’s getting hard and he’s not sure how the guy will react to him rubbing his dick against him. Peter wants to desperately, legs trembling at the urge it takes not to wrap them around his friend._

_“Is it nice?” Peter asks, genuinely curious but also trying to focus on things other than the throb in his dick. A voice in his mind tells him he should just go for it, because there’s no reason for him to be timid, but the idea of Chris rejecting him has him holding back. He tells himself it’s because he’d be really bored if he didn’t have Chris to make out with. In reality, he’s just scared. Scared of Chris turning him down and additionally scared that it will somehow lead to news coming out that Peter’s into guys and then suddenly he’ll be the laughingstock of the whole school. He probably should have thought about that before he got into the car with Chris._

_Chris shrugs in response to Peter’s question. “It’s alright. There are good places and bad places.”_

_Peter nods. He thinks whatever place it is, if it gets him away from the Hale house, he’ll be fine with it. “You move around a lot?”_

_Chris lifts his head, looking at Peter curiously. “Not that I’m against having a conversation.” He says, “But it’s kind of hard to do that and kiss you at the same time.” He points out._

_Peter’s face heats and he nods. “Oh, yeah.” He mutters. He’ll have to find some other way to cool himself down. He bites his lip, casting around for a distraction._

_Chris raises his eyebrows. “It’s hard to kiss you when you do that too.” He notes, prodding at Peter’s mouth. “Something wrong.”_

_“No, I just…” Peter trails off, not sure how to explain his predicament. “I’m just…distracting myself.” He says, willing a hole to form in the earth. He likes to think of himself as a put together guy, but Chris has this way of throwing him off his game. He hopes it doesn’t carry over to basketball. He’s starting to wonder if he can function on the court with Chris around._

_“Distract yourself?” Chris says, eyes narrowing suspiciously._

_“Not like that, asswipe.” Peter snaps, frustrated. “Look, I’m hard, okay?” He says, deciding to just come out with it._

_Chris blinks at him before smirking. “That’s kind of the point.” He says._

_“What-?” Peter starts, but Chris is kissing him again and pressing down. Peter moans, parting his thighs on instinct and letting Chris sink fully on top of him. He clutches at Chris’ hips with his legs and lets out a startled whimper when the other teen grinds forward, letting the wolf feel the answering stiffness in his jeans. “Oh.” He gasps, understanding what Chris was saying. He guesses that is the point._

_Peter’s hands move up to press at Chris’ back and he flushes at the feeling of the teen’s torso resting against his. Between layers of clothing, he feels Chris’ warmth and strong muscles. He pants, arching up to nip and lick at Chris’ mouth, giving as good as he’s getting. Chris rocks down against him and Peter shudders, keening between them at the feeling of pressure against his cock._

_“Fuck.” He curses, hips rolling up to meet Chris’._

_“Think you could come like this?” Chris asks, voice husky in his ear. Peter bites his lips, fighting back the flush and hiding his face in Chris’ shoulder._

_“Probably.” He answers softly, heart hammering in his chest. He definitely wants to come like this._

_“Can I make you come?” Chris asks, pulling back to look at Peter seriously._

_The wolf’s breath gusts out of him. “Yeah.” He says, blood boiling from desire._

_Chris groans, diving down to pull him into a kiss again. The teen pushes Peter’s shirt up, trailing his hands over smooth skin, and Peter moans, rocking up against Chris. He feels the other guy’s hands pulling at the waist of his pants and he stops breathing in anticipation. It’s an eternity of nerves and longing as Chris slips his hand passed the band of Peter’s underwear, slowly lowering the wolf’s covering until his cock’s exposed. Peter bites his lip, nervous, as Chris looks down. The teen lets out a pleased noise at the sight and wraps his fingers over Peter’s member._

_The wolf whimpers, clutching at Chris’ bicep as the teen starts to stroke him. “Fuck. Chris.” Peter gasps out. “Do you want me to – oh!” Peter’s hand halts on his journey to Chris’ jeans because a thumb slides over the head of his dick, scraping along sensitive nerves._

_Chris reaches down, undoing his jeans one handed while he caresses Peter. The wolf watches with half-lidded eyes as the teen exposes his cock. He stares at the member in fascination, taking in the pink flesh and the veins running along Chris’ length. The teen brings their dicks together and Peter groans, eyelids fluttering shut at the feeling of the hot, slick skin against his own._

_“Chris.” He moans, clutching at his partner. He reaches between them, trying to help bring them both off. His breath hitches when he touches Chris’ cock, the member heavy and hard in his palm._

_“Peter.” Chris gasps, pressing hungry kisses to Peter’s neck. The wolf arches his head back, encouraging the other teen’s mouth._

_“I’m close.” Peter pants, warning the other guy. Chris strokes even harder, eager to see Peter come. The wolf lets out desperate keens, feeling his orgasm build. He hasn’t been able to get off in far too long. It’s rare that he has a moment to masturbate, let alone have another person’s hand on his cock. He’s less experienced in the matters of sex than he’d like to be. Which is why Peter’s not prepared for his eyes to turn or his claws to come out._

_He grips at the seat so he doesn’t hurt Chris and that’s all the awareness he has before he’s spilling over the edge with a desperate distressed sound, realizing his fangs have come out and Chris is definitely going to see them, since the teen pulls back to watch him come. He knows the moment that Chris realizes, because the teen tenses and his scent tinges sharp with shock and panic. Chris doesn’t even let himself come before he’s pulling back, scooping his pants up and backing away from Peter. The wolf shudders, curling in on himself in sudden fear and humiliation._

_He pulls his trousers up hastily, covering himself as he pushes his way out of the other side of the vehicle. His heart’s pounding in his head, beating a deafening, panicked rhythm in his ear drums. Chris shouts after him, but Peter keeps going. He’s not sure what he thinks Chris is going to do, but he doesn’t want to find out._

_Terrified adrenaline pushes him into the woods and he weaves through the preserve, ducking between branches and leaping over fallen trees. The forest creates a blur around him and he doesn’t stop until a cry from nearby has him stumbling his footing. He crouches down into the underbrush, looking off to the side with wide eyes. He sniffs – blood. He smells a man – one of the hunters. And there’s a wolf too, but it’s not one of the Hales. It must be one from the neighboring packs._

_Peter hears another shout of pain and he crawls forward, moving closer to the strangers. He keeps his eyes peeled for more hunters and peers beneath the trees, taking in the scene that comes into view._

_He recognizes the wolf as Manuel. He’s from two towns over. He and Talia have paired up a few times when things have gotten pretty bad. He doesn’t recognize the hunter, but he can see the relation to Chris. It’s definitely one of the Argents. The man’s beating Manuel, his other weapons discarded as he uses his fists to butcher the werewolf, who’s too wounded to fight back. He’s been sliced with a knife already, leaking black goo from several open injuries._

_Peter ducks down, lips trembling as he listens to the beating in horror. The Argent’s getting off on it, grinning in glee as Manuel whimpers, face swelling and body shaking. The wolf’s not dead. He probably won’t be for a while, and it looks like the hunter has every intention of dragging it out as long and as painful as possible._

_Peter flinches, facing out into the woods around him and trying to figure out what to do. He should get help – go back to the Hale house and find Talia. His hands shake. He sees a branch lying nearby. It’s thick and knotted, and Peter takes in a deep breath, reaching forward and wrapping unsteady fingers around the log._

_He has to take a moment to steady himself. He doesn’t usually fight. The older wolves take care of that, Peter just hangs back and makes sure the kids don’t get into trouble. It takes it’s own sort of bravery and perseverance to babysit a horde of young werewolves, but it’s not nearly the same thing as taking on a hunter. At least he knows the kids aren’t trying to kill him, and if they were, they wouldn’t know how. This guy’s been trained his whole life. He’s strong enough to use his bare hands on a werewolf and Peter knows he’d be utterly useless in hand-to-hand combat._

_Fortunately for Peter, it looks like this guy’s hunting alone, but the wolf doesn’t doubt that more of them are on their way. That means it’s now or never. Lifting the branch, Peter turns, taking shallow breaths as he advances carefully through the trees, coming up behind the Argent. Manuel’s cries cover most of the sound Peter makes, but not all of them. He rustles the leaves behind the Argent, who turns swiftly, face contorted in a monstrous, predatory expression. Peter swings the log down on instinct, bashing the guy over the head before he can even think through the action._

_The hunter falls to the side, bringing a hand up to his bloody face and growling, glaring at Peter from his good eye. The wolf swings again, hitting on repeat until the guy’s down on the ground. Peter lets out panicked, distraught sobs as he beats the guy. Blood goes everywhere, clinging to the leaves and the wolf’s clothes, and Peter shudders, dropping the stick and stepping back in alarm._

_“Oh god.” Peter mutters in distress. “Oh god.”_

_Manuel groans nearby, shifting on the ground as he tries to lift himself. Peter rushes forward, helping him to his feet._

_“Better get out of here.” Manuel says, shooting a sidelong glance to the body on the ground. “No time to bury him.”_

_Peter lets out a shaky breath, shouldering the bigger wolf and dragging him forward._

_“Fuck.” Manuel curses and Peter thinks it’s because he’s in pain until he hears the sound of another person coming up on them. “I can take him. You better go.”_

_Peter’s tempted to follow the wolf’s orders but he hangs back, frozen in place by fear and an unexpected sense of duty. Chris comes out between the trees, stopping when he spots Peter and Manuel. He gapes, looking over at the fallen hunter._

_Peter’s lungs freeze. He’s sure Chris will call the other hunters now or kill them. Instead the teen looks around, shakes his head, and then steps closer to Peter._

_“This way.” He says, encouraging the wolves to follow him._

_“It’s a trap.” Manuel hisses at him._

_Peter looks between his companion and Chris._

_“I know where they’re patrolling.” Chris says. “I can help.”_

_“I don’t…” Peter’s voice catches in his throat and he just feels lost. The blood on his clothes and arms burns hot against his skin and he’s pretty sure he just killed a guy._

_“Peter. Follow me.” Chris orders._

_Peter looks up at him, staring into earnest blue eyes, and nods. “Okay.” He agrees quietly. Manuel protests but Peter ignores him, pulling the wolf along as he follows Chris. The teen’s firm and steady, leading them through the woods with stealth and precision, and it helps Peter feel a little more grounded. Doubts swirl in his mind, but as long as he follows Chris, he can keep his hysteria at bay and focus ahead._

_They duck down, stopping here and there as Chris takes in the layout, guiding them past hunters and traps. He stops a couple of miles away from the Hale property._

_“It’ll be clear from here.” He promises Peter. “We don’t go any further than this.”_

_They risk a full out war if they actually invade the Hale property. Peter shudders, wondering just how long they’ve been observing the Hales and planning for this._

_“Thanks.” Peter says weakly, voice thick and watery._

_Chris nods. “Here.” He says, holding his hand out._

_Peter reaches forward unsteadily and Chris drops a bullet into his palm. Peter frowns, looking at it in confusion._

_“The mountain ash.” Chris says, nodding to Manuel. “Put it in the wounds. It’ll cure him.”_

_“Why are you helping?” Peter asks._

_“The code.” Chris says and leaves it at that._

_Peter takes the bullet, holding it firmly as he adjusts his grip on Manuel. “I’m sorry.” He says when Chris moves to walk away. “About the hunter.”_

_“Just go.” Chris says. “Get home safe.”_

_Peter’s jaw clenches and he gives a short nod. He sniffs, carrying Manuel and trying not to linger on the image of the hunter, crumpled and bloody on the forest floor._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

As the days pass, Peter finds himself thinking about Allison more than he thinks about Chris. It’s hard to acknowledge the other man when it wasn’t him he was with to begin with. Even if the shapeshifter was using Chris’ memories and Chris’ thoughts, the whole relationship is tinged muddy gray and unpleasant with the knowledge that Peter had really been with a stranger. Chris never would have done any of those things, and even if he would have, he didn’t and Peter’s shutting the door on that possibility once and for all. He doesn’t want a relationship with Chris now anyway. Both attempts at being with him had met such abominable ends that Peter would just rather abandon the notion altogether.

Allison had been genuine though. It was rocky at first and still riddled with pebbles at the end, but they’d managed to forge something. He’d been almost a stepfather to her, and he’d made a place in his heart for the teenage girl. It’s painful to not see her in the mornings or to be able to ask about her day. They can’t bond over their mutual soap opera addiction or their love of chocolate (as opposed to Chris, who never developed a fondness for the stuff.) They don’t engage with each other at all and Peter misses it. He misses a lot of things.

He avoids the pack for the most part. He gets a few texts from Derek and, bizarrely, Kira, who he suspects does so out of courtesy, but he never goes to the loft and he has no intention of seeing anyone. They’ll manage well enough without him. He thinks he might go somewhere and do something useful. He can at least make a life for himself.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

**_November 3rd, 1987_ **

_Peter’s slumped in his seat in the classroom, staring down at his fingers blankly and wondering if he’s imagining the rich scent of copper on them. He showered thoroughly both last night and this morning, but he still can’t get rid of the smell of blood._

_Chris comes into the room and Peter stiffens, eyes closing as the teen passes him. He doesn’t want to see the anger on the guy’s face. He doesn’t want to see how much Chris hates him now. Peter waits for the sound of Chris moving further, taking a seat as far away from the wolf as possible. The Argent hesitates, just a second, and then takes the desk next to the wolf’s._

_Peter blinks his eyes open and frowns. He’s sure it’s a ploy of some sort. Maybe Chris is planning on whispering abuse to Peter for the rest of class. The teen nods at him in greeting and Peter looks away, staring at the board in confusion._

_Halfway through class, Chris slips him a note, telling him to meet him under the bridge near the outside basketball court._

_The day passes slowly, with Peter’s mind spilling over various possibilities of what Chris plans on doing. None of them are good, but Peter still shows up under the bridge. He gets there before Chris and waits, chewing his fingernail and fidgeting nervously._

_“Hey.” Chris says when he rounds the corner and comes under the overpass. His hood’s up and his hands are tucked into his jacket pockets, protecting him from the cold. Rain drops have splattered onto his clothing, making him look a little ruffled but no less intimidating._

_Peter glances at the basketball court behind Chris. It’s the only place anyone would be able to see them, but the rain’s driven everyone inside, so they’re in no danger of being watched. That only makes Peter more nervous._

_“Hey.” The wolf says, trying to hide his anxiety. He tucks his hands into his jeans to stop himself from fidgeting._

_“How’s that guy from yesterday?” Chris asks. He steps forward, coming up in front of Peter. They’re not that close, but Peter can still feel the air heat ten degrees from the warmth wafting off of Chris._

_“Good. Better.” Peter mutters. “How’s the other guy?”_

_“Alive.” Chris says. “He’s in the hospital. Critical.”_

_Peter lets out a shaky exhale. “Sorry.” He says._

_“Don’t be.” Chris replies, firmly. “He’s a dick. Got what was coming.”_

_Peter looks at Chris in surprise._

_“I, uh…” Chris starts, glancing down and licking his lips nervously. “I’m not like them, Peter. I don’t…I don’t believe in what they do. Killing people, innocent people, just for being different? It’s not right. I mean, hell, you’ve seen the news.” Chris says. “Gay bashings, hate crimes, that sort of stuff…It’s no different.”_

_“It’s a little different.” Peter points out. “I mean, we’re monsters, right?”_

_“I don’t think so.” Chris says, staring sincerely into Peter’s eyes. “You and your family, you’re just…”_

_“Freaks?”_

_“Unusual.” Chris corrects. “Doesn’t make you evil.”_

_Peter watches Chris’ face, wondering about the hidden thoughts he sees behind those eyes. “Are you unusual?” He asks._

_Chris gives him a pointed look. “I come from a family of hunters.” He says._

_“No, I mean, are you…” Gay, is what he’s trying to ask. They’ve made out, so he wouldn’t be surprised. “Strange?” He finishes._

_Chris frowns. “Queer, you mean?” He asks._

_Peter had been trying to avoid the slur but he nods._

_Chris shakes his head in disbelief. “Weird thing to ask the guy who’s touched your dick.” He says._

_“I’m still asking.” Peter says._

_“It’s complicated.” Chris says._

_“I don’t know what that means.”_

_“It means I don’t know.” Chris says. “Why, you queer?”_

_Peter swallows. “I’m…” He trails off, licking his lips. He’s been in the closet for a while. He thinks he might like women, he’s not sure. He knows he likes guys though, and he definitely wants to have sex with Chris. Even knowing what he does, he just seems to want the guy more and more._

_“Hey, it’s okay if you are.” Chris says, stepping closer to him. He rests his fingers hesitantly on Peter’s cheek and the wolf looks up at the hunter._

_“It’s confusing.” He mutters._

_“Then don’t worry about.” Chris says. “Do you like me?”_

_Peter looks down at Chris’ mouth, remembering the way it felt on him. “Yeah.”_

_“Then focus on that.”_

_“We shouldn’t do this.” Peter whispers when Chris leans in._

_“Why not?” Chris asks. “Fuck our families. Fuck what other people think. What about you? What do you want?”_

_Peter’s voice catches when he tries to answer. He wants a lot of things – his own room, some privacy, to get out of this hellhole – but right now what he really wants is to kiss Chris. So he does._

_Peter grips at the other teen, kissing him with everything he’s got. It’s the first time he’s really just gone for what he wants and it feels spectacular. Chris’ mouth is heaven and the hunter lets out a soft moan against his lips that Peter licks up eagerly. He clutches at Chris’ waist and brings a hand up to his scalp, where he touches soft, blond locks. The hunter grips him just as firmly, sucking and nipping at Peter until the wolf’s gasping against him._

_“Fuck.” Peter pants, leaning his forehead against the hunter’s as he tries to calm down. It feels like fireworks and explosions and every other cliché he’s ever read in one of his Aunt Trudy’s romance novels._

_Peter breathes hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He hears the echo of Chris’ pulse, equally frenzied, and it makes his blood boil. He affects Chris. He doesn’t think he should – he’s too awkward, too uncertain, too much of a mess – but Chris is into him. The hunter pulls him into another kiss and Peter moans._

_It’s dangerous. He barely knows this guy, and even he can tell that his feelings are coming up on him way too fast. His world’s falling apart around him just from a kiss, and he knows the longer they do this, the more intense it’s going to get and then he’ll never recover from it. It feels like it’s too late to stop it though. He’s in deep and he’ll only get in deeper, but he can’t bring himself to care._

_He’s sick of being cautious. He’s sick of worrying about the pack and having nothing of his own. He throwing out the rule book and doing something for himself. It’s liberating._

_He feels something dark swirl in his chest, something like power, and thinks he could easily get addicted to this._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Peter books a plane ticket to New York. His apartment lease expires in five weeks and he plans on leaving a little before then. He figures the sooner he can get out of Beacon Hills, the better. 

He procrastinates a little while, because he’s not sure what to do about the stuff he still has at the Argents’ place. He doesn’t want to see Chris and he’s tempted to just let the hunter deal with all of it, but he thinks the man’s been through enough, he shouldn’t have to deal with Peter’s crap too. It’s a rare moment of sympathy for him, but he still doesn’t contact Chris.

Chris is the one who comes to him in the end. It’s a few weeks before Peter leaves and the wolf’s cleaning everything obsessively, mostly just to give himself something to do. He’s in the oven, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a washcloth in hand as he wipes the inside down. It’s not really dirty, but he’s determined to get it spotless. A knock from the door tears him from his thoughts. He smells Chris before he even gets to the entrance. Despite the forewarning, the sight of Chris has Peter feeling stricken and breathless.

“Hey.” Chris says, looking a little better than the last time Peter saw him. He’s still a touch too thin and there are circles under his eyes, but he’s clean shaven and showered.

Peter steps aside, letting the hunter in. “I’m a bit busy.” Peter says, retreating back into the oven with the rag. He shouldn’t be turning his back on Chris like this. He should talk to him face-to-face, but he’d rather be rude than deal with the confusing swarm of emotions that comes with looking at the other man.

Peter’s managed over the weeks to have quite a few Chris-free thoughts. He’s handled things fairly well, he thinks, and even if he hasn’t, at least he never brought his issues onto anyone else’s doorstep. He’s stuck to himself and gotten on with his own things. He hasn’t been obsessing over his near-fiancé and he thinks he deserves some credit for that. Especially when having the hunter here has Peter’s mind playing tricks on him. He feels like his world’s just swung into motion again and he knows he shouldn’t. He’s still been living in Chris’ absence and he tries to keep his ridiculous, romantic illusions at bay. They’ve always been nothing but trouble for him anyway.

“I think we should talk.” Chris says.

Peter grits his teeth. “Not much to talk about.” He says, trying for flippancy. He thinks he gets it down pretty well. At least, the echo of his voice in the oven sounds pretty uncaring.

“Peter, you…” Chris sighs behind him. Peter resists the urge to look back at the hunter. He scrubs furiously at an imaginary spot. “You lived with that thing for a year.” Chris points out.

“No. I lived with it for four months.” Peter points out. “Allison lived with it for a year. You should talk to her.”

“We have talked. We are talking.” Chris says. “But, Peter-”

“No, Chris. Just stop.” Peter snaps. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. And anyway, shouldn’t you be at home dealing with your PTSD?”

A warm hand presses against Peter’s shoulder and he flinches. He takes a deep breath before dropping the rag and pushing Chris’ hand away. He pulls out of the oven and glares up at the hunter, who’s kneeling beside him.

“Peter, you were gonna marry me.”

“No, I was gonna marry the shapeshifter.” Peter counters, ignoring the agony that twists in his chest. He’s cried over it. It’s mostly been in the shower, where he can let the tears disappear under the stream and almost fool himself into thinking he’s not crying at all. Other times he just cries in the bathroom and one time he collapsed in the kitchen, kneeling almost where he is now as he wept.

He never cries in bed though. Which is odd, because he would have expected that to be the main sobbing place, since that’s where he shares most of his intimate memories with Chris. In actuality, it’s the only place he feels any semblance of calm. He sometimes contemplates the empty space beside him or lets his mind wander over memories that feel more distant when he’s in the safety of his blanket.

He thinks it’s because it’s not the sex that he misses. It had been lovely, of course, although now it just makes him feel cold when he remembers it. But the things that make his heart ache are when he turns to pass a mug of coffee to Chris only to realize he isn’t there. Or when he goes to knock on Allison’s door and remembers he’s in his empty apartment now and Allison doesn’t have a room there. It’s the small things that he never really appreciated until they were gone.

Peter sighs, sitting against the cabinet. He balances the back of his cranium against the wooden doors and looks at the space behind the hunter’s shoulder. He does it mostly to get away from Chris, but he’s also just tired. It’s not the type of tired he was at the Argent’s apartment, when Shapeshifter Chris was feeding off of him, but it’s just a general emotional fatigue. He’s sick of having feelings about all of this. He wishes he could just be at peace with the situation.

“Allison misses you.” Chris says, watching him cautiously.

Peter raises his eyebrows in surprise, turning his head slightly to look at Chris. “I didn’t think she even liked me.” He says. It’s true. They got along relatively well, but she wasn’t exactly eager to see him.

“You gave her money and candy for lunch. Of course she likes you.” Chris points out. “And yes, she told me about it.” He explains at Peter’s questioning look.

The wolf snorts. “Good to know where her priorities lie.”

“The apartment feels lonely without you.”

Peter frowns. “How would you know?”

“Your stuff’s everywhere. There are pictures of us together and I know it’s not me but it feels like it could be.”

Peter shakes his head, stopping whatever else Chris is going to vocalize. He looks at the hunter, thinking about what he’s saying, and it’s like a year ago all over again, only this time he’s exhausted and operating 12 months ahead of the other man and he knows how it ends. All the things that he did with the shapeshifter, all the things that he experienced are completely lost on Chris. It feels like a galaxy’s worth of a divide between them. Chris clearly has things he needs to work out and Peter’s just done. He’s never been one to work away at something futile. He’d rather move on to greener pastures. “I’m moving.” Peter reveals.

Chris’ eyes widen in surprise. “Moving?” He asks.

“To New York.” Peter clarifies.

Chris stares at him, stunned. “You can’t just leave.”

“I’m not irreplaceable.” Peter says. He’s referring to his place in the pack but there’s a second meaning there that he didn’t intend but realizes is no less true.

Chris frowns. “Yes you are.” He says.

Peter closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and not letting himself get sucked in by Chris’ earnestness.

“What the shifter said, back at the loft?” Chris says. “About me not wanting you, about me moving on…It was bullshit. I’ve wanted you since I was sixteen. That never changed.”

Peter swallows thickly, fighting back the moisture in his eyes. “You sure you’re not another shifter?” He asks. He looks at the hunter and Chris is watching him pleadingly, begging the wolf to believe him.

“I loved Victoria.” Chris says. “Still do. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t love you too. And it doesn’t mean that I don’t want you now.”

“I’m still going.” Peter says, mostly for his own benefit. He won’t get dragged in. He can’t.

“I won’t stop you.” Chris says.

Peter nods, looking away from the hunter and letting out a heavy breath. He tries to push down the lump in his throat and calm his racing heart. “My stuff’s at your apartment.” He points out.

“Do you want to come get it?” Chris offers. “Or I could always pack it up?”

“I’ll get it.” Peter says. His car’s still over there anyway.

They arrange for Peter to come over Saturday and then Chris leaves. Peter looks around his sparse apartment and he’s not sure if he feels better or not. He certainly doesn’t feel worse, which he guesses is a small miracle.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

**_March 21 st, 1988_ **

_“You want some?”_

_Peter glances over at Chris in the darkness. They’re in their clearing, a hidden area in the woods that the Hales and Argents don’t even seem to know about. It’s a perfect meeting spot, equidistant between both their houses and private enough that they don’t have to worry about anyone finding them._

_“You know that won’t do anything?” Peter says, nodding at the whiskey bottle Chris holds out._

_“Still look like you could use it.” Chris says, shifting on the log. Peter sighs, taking the container and taking a swig of the burning liquid. He cringes at the foul taste and hands it back. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” Chris asks, capping the bottle._

_Peter sighs, shifting on the bark and laying back. The rough wood scrapes against his clothed back as he stares up at the circle of stars overhead. “Talia’s pregnant.” He says. Chris sets a hand on his leg, palm warm through the fabric of Peter’s jeans._

_“Isn’t that a good thing?” Chris asks, setting his chin on Peter’s bent knee. The wolf glances up at him._

_“I guess.” Peter says, nose wrinkling. “It’s just, my room’s almost finished, you know?” He says, lifting his head and resting his elbows on the log beneath him._

_“She’s not gonna make you share it, right?” Chris asks, frowning._

_“I don’t know. Maybe.” Peter mutters. He’s been waiting for his own room for 7 years. “It’ll only be one more year, I guess.” He says, trying to find the bright side._

_“You need your own space, man.” Chris says._

_“I know.” Peter sighs, resting his head back against the wood. “God, I just want to get out of here.”_

_Chris watches him curiously. “Why don’t we?” He asks. Peter looks at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m serious, dude. You and me.”_

_“You mean run away?” Peter asks, sitting up and staring at Chris seriously._

_“Yeah.” Chris says._

_“What about school? And money? And our families?” Peter asks, thoughts swirling in his head._

_“Hey.” Chris says, resting a hand against his neck and calming him down. “We don’t have to do it now.” He offers. “We can wait till we graduated. I’ve been saving what I’m earning at the bowling alley and you’re gonna lifeguard during the summer, right?”_

_Peter nods._

_“We can put money away.” Chris says._

_“And our families?” Peter asks._

_Chris studies the wolf. “I don’t want to be a hunter.” He says. “I want to be with you, Peter.”_

_Peter swallows, glancing down at Chris lips. “Me too.” He confesses. “I wish we could leave now.”_

_“Me too.” Chris says. “But you know what we can do?” He asks, running his fingers up Peter’s thigh._

_“Pervert.” Peter mutters._

_“Not a pervert. Just looking out for your needs.” Chris counters. “You gotta get off sometime, right? Can’t do it with Harry in the room.”_

_“Oh, so you’re saving me?” Peter says, cocking an eyebrow._

_“Exactly.” Chris says. “Blue balls can be very serious.”_

_“My hero.” Peter mutters._

_Chris smirks. “You can get on your knees and thank me later.” He says, running his thumb over Peter’s lip._

_The wolf’s stomach flips. He leans forward, gripping Chris and pulling him into a kiss. The blond’s right, Peter really does need to get off._

_He lets Chris move him. He submits easily as Chris pulls his shirt aside and leavings tingling hickeys down his torso. The bruises heal quickly, but the skin remembers, throbbing and hot where Chris’ mouth was._

_Peter lets the hunter spread his legs and pull his jeans down and then Chris is sucking him off, making him arch and moan against the log as his world boils down to the moist suction on his cock. He’s careful not to tug on Chris’ hair and instead digs his fingernails into the log and throws his head back, eyes flashing beta gold then back to blue. Peter comes with a gasp and Chris swallows it down. The hunter moves up, kissing Peter and letting the wolf taste himself on Chris’ tongue. Peter moans and pushes Chris backward, getting him settled so he can move between his legs and reciprocate, pressing gratitude and affection into sensitive veins and sweaty flesh._

_In the aftermath, Peter thinks he can last another year like this. It will be worth it when they’re finally out on their own._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

It’s Saturday and Peter’s at the Argents’ apartment. He’s packing up some of the plates and kitchen utensils he brought with him. He finds his blender in the cabinet over the fridge and practically kisses it.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispers to the machine.

There’s a snort in the doorway and he looks up. Allison. Always so quiet and stealthy. She’ll make a glorious hunter.

“Do you always talk to kitchen appliances?” She asks.

Peter bows his head. “Only the interesting ones.” He says. He places it in the cardboard box, laying it on its side by the mixing bowls.

“So, why New York?” Allison inquires, stepping further into the room.

“I had an uncle there. We used to visit.” Peter says. “I like it. It’s...” He pauses, searching for an adjective.

“Far?” Allison supplies.

Peter nods. “Far.” He agrees.

“Look, I’m not okay with what you did to Scott. Or Lydia.” Allison says. “I don’t know how I feel about any of this, really. It’s confusing. But…”

“But?”

“God, I don’t know. I’m sorry? I guess. I mean, you seemed happy. And it was kind of nice having you around in a weird, creepy sort of way. Which I’ll deny if anyone asks.”

Peter’s lips twitch. “I like you, Allison.” He says. “I admire you.”

Allison scrunches her face. “Thanks?”

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s the truth.” Peter says. “You will be an unstoppable hunter.”

Allison nods, letting out a little sigh.

“You’ll be unstoppable at whatever you decide to do.” Peter says, looking at her knowingly. He’s aware that her heart isn’t in the hunting lifestyle.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice.” Allison confesses quietly.

“You have every choice in the world.” Peter replies. “And only a fool would stand in your way.”

Allison smiles softly. “You’re just saying this so you don’t have to worry about me hunting you.”

“I’m saying it because, for some bizarre reason, I care. Not having to worry about you hunting me is just a bonus.” Peter replies.

Allison shakes her head incredulously. “Do you need help packing?” She asks.

“No. I just have this and…” Peter purses his lips, looking at the hallway. The bedroom’s down there.

“Oh.” Allison mutters. “Well, I’m gonna head over to Scott’s.” She says, either because she wants to get away from the impending awkwardness or because she’s trying to give him space.

“How is he?” Peter asks.

“Better. After the shifter got killed he healed up pretty quick.”

“Great.” Peter says.

There’s an awkward silence before she bids goodbye and leaves. He summons his resolve and grabs a couple of boxes. He opens the bedroom door hesitantly and feels his stomach fall out. He can still smell them in there. He’s a weird mixture of heartsick and queasy as he steps into the room, remembering long, passionate nights that make his skin itch. He can’t tell if he wants more or if he feels traumatized. He’s not sure he has a right to either emotion, given his history.

Peter sets the boxes on the mattress and ignores the echo of fingers tracing over him, holding him tight as Fake Chris rocks inside his quivering entrance. In a moment of weakness, Peter’s eyes slip shut for a brief second and he feels the phantom weight of the ring on his finger. Hot breath ghosts over his neck and a figment of Chris presses up against his back, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

There’s a creak outside the bedroom and Peter’s eyes fly open. He knocks himself out of the fantasy and goes over to what served as his side of the bed. His nightstand’s still there, with a picture of him and Chris and some of his personal effects. He busies himself collecting his keys and cell phone charger and Chris hesitantly opens the door, eyeing him awkwardly.

“Hey.” The hunter greets.

“Hey.” Peter echoes, sliding his drawer out. He sees the box for his engagement ring and his heart constricts. He reaches shaking fingers forward and grabs the container, running his digits over the case. He bites the inside of his cheek but he’s not sure if he’s holding back tears or screams. He feels sadness and anger hovering on the border of his emotions, but what takes over is just a sort of empty hollow of regret that has him more or less frozen in place, staring at a relic of a dream relationship that ended on a nightmare. 

“I didn’t move anything.” Chris says.

Peter nods. He feels a tear slip down his cheek and realizes that sadness has won out. He drops the box onto the quilt with a shuddered breath and closes his eyes, bringing his palms up to cover his face. His cheeks heat in embarrassment and he wishes he could transport himself to his apartment so he doesn’t have to do this in front of Chris.

“Peter.” Chris says, voice filled with concern. The wolf hears him step forward and he turns away, taking trembling inhales as he tries to get himself under control. Chris keeps going, coming up behind him and laying his fingers on Peter’s shoulder. When the wolf doesn’t shrink away, he embraces him, pressing his front into Peter’s back. It’s not intended to be sexual, but Peter’s mind flashes back to Chris spooning him as he slides in and out. He shivers and dispels the image. “I’m sorry.” Chris says.

Peter snorts, rubbing his eyes stubbornly. “For what?”

“Everything. Leaving you.”

“You didn’t leave. You got kidnapped.” Peter points out.

“The first time I didn’t.” Chris says.

Peter sighs. “Are we ever gonna get past that?” He mutters. The truth is, sometime during his relationship with Fake Chris, he managed to come to terms with it. He isn’t happy about it or anything, but he understands. Even if he didn’t, he’s 41 now. Two decades have passed and he’s collected plenty more hurts in the meantime. He’s got to start letting go of some of this stuff or he’s going to find himself in another situation like what happened with Fake Chris. If he hadn’t been so hung up on the hunter and his feelings for him, this never would have happened. Either he’d have rejected the man and figured out the shifter thing from a safe distance or he’d have dated him. If the latter happened, he likes to think he’d have worked it out eventually. Maybe if he hadn’t been so blinded by a feeling of betrayal and his worry that Chris would leave him again, he’d have been more observant. He could have saved them all a world of heartache.

“I don’t know.” Chris replies, answering Peter’s question.

“Chris, it’s not important anymore.” The wolf says. “We’ve both lived lives. You’ve got a beautiful daughter. I have…” Peter clenches his jaw. Malia. “My own priorities.” He says instead. He’s going to move out of Beacon Hills. He won’t be around for Malia and from his understanding she has a father who loves her dearly. He’d be shit at the job anyway and his only claim to her is biological, which amounts to squat. 

“I just wish things had turned out differently.” Chris says.

“Different isn’t always better.” Peter counters.

Chris lets out a heavy breath and even from a distance Peter can feel it on his neck. He turns around, studying the hunter. He looks exhausted. “You’ve changed.” Chris notes. “You’re nicer.”

“I’m not that nice.” Peter says, offended.

“No, you’re not. But you’re nicer.” Chris counters. “And more honest.”

“I’m lulling everyone into a false sense of security. It’s all part of my master plan.”

Chris lets out a breath of laughter. “I’m almost tempted to believe that.” He says.

Peter sits on the mattress, pushing the ring box away before settling his elbows on his knees. “It was a long year.” He starts. “And I guess you’re a good influence on me.”

Chris looks at him in surprise. He joins Peter on the bed, sitting a foot away to give the wolf space. “Was it really that much like me?” He asks.

“It fooled Allison. She’d have known long before I did.” Peter points out.

Chris nods. “But with you…I mean, it got you to agree to marriage.”

Peter lets out a humorless laugh. “That was rather ingenuous.” He admits.

“Did you love me? Well, what you thought was me?” Chris asks.

The wolf swallows around the lump in his throat and his fingers clench together. He’d never said it to Fake Chris. He’s not particularly inclined to say it to the real one, especially in these circumstances. “I cared for you in my own way.” He says.

Chris reads the ‘yes’ hidden in that statement. “Do you think it would have gone through with the marriage?”

“Probably.”

“Would you marry me now, if I asked?” Chris says.

Peter’s world tilts and he looks up at the hunter. “If that’s your idea of a proposal, I have some notes.”

“I’m not proposing. I just want to know where we stand.”

“Currently? Nowhere. You’re staying in Beacon Hills with your daughter and I’m going to New York.”

Chris rubs a hand over his mouth, holding back anything he wants to say to the contrary. “What are you going to do when you get there?” He asks after a moment.

“Create an army and take over the city.” Peter answers dryly.

“Really?” Chris asks.

“No.” Peter says. “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but I always land on my feet.”

“That you do.” Chris concedes. “So are we done? You and me?”

Peter looks over at Chris and feels want twist sharp in his gut. He needs to say yes, to finish this forever, but it seems he’s physically incapable of it. He thinks about never seeing Chris again, never touching him again, never kissing him again, and his lungs seize tight, filled to the brim with dust and ash. He opens his mouth, trying to get the words out, but his vocal chords won’t cooperate and he finds his eyes drawn down to Chris’ lips. “I…” Peter starts but can’t go any further.

Chris watches him, fingers twitching in his direction before he can stop himself. “Could I…could I kiss you?” Chris asks hesitantly.

A sharp shock goes through the wolf and he looks in the hunter’s wide eyes. “You never asked before.” He says.

“I’m asking now.”

Peter thinks about saying no, but he finds himself leaning forward, instigating the kiss first. He falters slightly when the memory of Fake Chris’ mouth on his sends a shock of coldness through him, but then his lips are on Chris’ and he floods with heat. He tries to remember that this Chris hasn’t kissed him in twenty three years, but it’s only been a little over a month since he had his lips against the hunter’s and he fails at taking it slow.

Peter pushes against Chris’, licking and sucking and nipping, and the hunter twists fingers in the wolf’s hair, taking a few moments to get into the rhythm. Peter’s hand presses against Chris’ tailbone and he feels warm flesh under thin cotton.

“Want you.” Chris confesses against Peter’s lips. The wolf shudders.

“Take me.” He says. He wants it rough and fast and angry. He wants Chris to fuck himself into Peter’s memories forever. He wants to still be sore when the plane lands in New York. He wants something that’s going to last him a lifetime.

Peter strips them down quickly, fighting against Chris’ attempts to be gentle because Peter doesn’t want that. He almost tells Chris to go in without lube, but he thinks better of it, letting Chris slick up his fingers and slip them inside him, chasing away the memory of Fake Chris’ touches and replacing them with the real thing.

Peter gasps and shudders in the sheets, arching up into Chris’ digits as the hunter presses hungry kisses to his mouth. He can tell the man’s still weak from his time in captivity, so he pushes Chris down and straddles him, sinking onto his cock quickly. Chris gasps below him, clutching at Peter’s hips and moaning his name. Peter leans down, sucking in Chris’ bottom lip and growling in satisfaction as the hunter fills him up.

He bounces on Chris’ lap, digging his fingers into the sheets as he fucks himself onto the hunter. He pulls away from Chris’ mouth and pants. He rides the man ruthlessly, setting a brutal pace that has them both gasping and wrecked.

Chris summons the strength to flip them and Peter finds himself on his back, head thrown over the edge of the bed and legs wrapped around the hunter’s hips as Chris slams into him. The hunter takes advantage of Peter’s bared throat by biting into the flesh, leaving marks that quickly fade. Peter moans, clutching at Chris’ shoulders. He sees stars behind his eyelids and all the conflicted thoughts and emotions are kept at bay by the feel of Chris moving against him. Peter never wants it to end and he tries to fight the growing tension in his abdomen.

Chris’ fingers fist in Peter’s hair, keeping his head back and the hunter lifts up, looking into his face. Peter blinks hooded eyes at him, letting out puffs of air as he stares back at him. Chris slams their lips together and Peter moans, arching up into the hunter’s thrusts and feeling his dick leak. He reaches between, wrapping his fist around his member and pulling. He whines into Chris’ mouth and clenches around his dick, drawing closer to orgasm.

“Fuck.” Chris groans, pulling off of Peter’s lips.

Peter’s eyes drop shut and he pants, stroking himself over the edge as Chris fucks into him. He comes with a shout, hole twitching around Chris’ cock, and the hunter shudders, pounding into him. He stills, mouth gaping open as he fills Peter up, and they both pant, sweaty bodies twined together while they come down from their high.

Peter pushes gently at Chris’ shoulder and the hunter moves, slipping out and settling on the end of the bed. The wolf gets up, coughing awkwardly as he grabs a tissue from the nightstand and wipes the spunk off his stomach. Chris watches him curiously as Peter rises, slipping his clothes back on.

“Are you leaving?” Chris asks hesitantly.

“I still have to finish packing.” Peter points out.

Chris nods.

“You should go. Have a shower or something.” Peter says.

Chris understands what Peter’s really saying – he wants to be alone. The hunters gets off the bed, pausing a moment on his way out the door. “In case you’re gone before I get out,” Chris says, “Goodbye. And I’d like to talk to you sometimes. When you’re in New York. So call me and text me or whatever.”

Peter nods. “Yeah. You too.” He says.

Chris leaves the room and Peter packs quickly, shoving his meager belongings in his boxes and taking them down to the car. Chris takes his sweet time in the bathroom. He’s probably waiting for Peter to leave before he comes out. Peter gives a last look at the apartment, holding his final box in his hands. He drops the key Fake Chris gave him on the table near the entrance. He locks the door as he exits, shutting himself out of the Argents’ life.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Peter bids his goodbyes to Derek, who seems less thrilled to see the back of Peter than the eldest Hale expected. He thinks Derek’s started to view him with more sympathy since the shapeshifter incident. Derek’s still happy to see him leave though.

Peter doesn’t say anything to Malia, but he does spend his last evening watching her from the shadows. It’s invasive and inappropriate, but Peter’s always been both of those things so he doesn’t feel too badly. Malia doesn’t do anything terribly exciting anyway, so he figures his crime is lessened as a result.

Her father’s nice. They seem to get along alright and Peter thinks she’s in good hands. He clearly loves her, though there’s a distance there that Peter would have taken advantage of a year ago. He won’t do that now.

Peter leaves for the airport early in the morning. He’s already shipped his stuff off to New York, where it should be waiting in a storage unit. He has an apartment arranged for him in Manhattan. It’s a nice little suite that costs a pretty penny, but he’s got plenty of money. He thinks he’ll have to set up a will when he gets to New York. He’s planning on leaving everything to Malia. Whether he’ll tell her why, he’s not sure, but he knows he wants it to go her way.

Peter sits in the airport for an hour, waiting for his flight. If he’s expecting some sort of rom-com ending where Chris comes running in to stop him, it never happens. Good thing he wasn’t expecting it, he supposes, going on board the flight to New York.

The plane ride’s boring and once he gets to New York it’s all paperwork and errands. It takes him two weeks to fully settle into his apartment, but he relaxes a bit once he does. He’s still hurting emotionally, but he’s got something to focus on at least.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

**_February 10 th, 1989_ **

_Peter’s room is done. Talia’s had her baby – a little boy she named Derek. Peter’s not sure if he likes him yet or not. The kid’s fussy and cries all the time. Peter can hear him all the way from the basement. Fortunately, Derek screams every time Peter goes anywhere near him, so he’s been officially taken off Derek duty and can watch from the sidelines while everyone else tries to deal with the little brat._

_It’s 10:30 pm on a Friday and Peter’s currently walking away from the coach’s office bearing a stunned expression and holding a brochure for the University of California. He reaches a hand up, scratching absent-mindedly at his basketball jersey as he turns the corner, looking for Chris. The blond’s supposed to be waiting for him somewhere around here. Peter hears voices in the next corridor. One of them sounds like Chris’ and the other is female, but he can’t place it. Peter draws closer and pauses, listening._

_“There’s a party next Saturday. You should come.”_

_“Yeah, that would be cool.” Chris says._

_“Cool.” The girl says. “And, you know, we could always hang out sometime, just you and me. If you’re free.”_

_“Oh.” Chris says. “Um, yeah, that would be…yeah.”_

_“Great. See you, Christopher.”_

_“Yeah, bye.”_

_Peter straightens as footsteps draw closer. He tries to look casual as Cindy Laurence comes around the corner, skirt swooshing around her knees and hair bouncing with each step._

_“Hey, Peter.” She greets kindly. “Great game.”_

_“Thanks.” Peter says as she passes. Chris comes into view, glancing between Peter and Cindy with wide eyes._

_“Peter.” He says, approaching him. “That was, um…” He looks at Cindy’s retreating back then back to Peter._

_“Cindy.” Peter finishes for him._

_“Yeah, she just wanted to-”_

_“Hang out sometime.” Peter says._

_Chris looks at him guiltily and Peter snorts._

_“It’s not like we’re exclusive, dude.” The wolf points out. “She’s pretty, go for it.” He says._

_Chris frowns, studying Peter. “You serious?” He asks._

_“Yeah.” Peter says. “People will start talking if you don’t.”_

_Chris bites his lip. He leans forward, pressing a quick peck to Peter’s lips before pulling away. “Okay, yeah, I’ll just…” He gestures awkwardly and Peter nods, letting him go. Chris moves down the hallway, racing after the girl. “Hey Cindy, wait up.” He says, turning into the next hallway._

_Peter sighs, lifting up his brochure. “Hey, Chris, I might have a scholarship. That scout from L.A. said I was a shoo-in for the team.” He mutters to himself. He snorts, folding the pamphlet and sticking it in his short’s pocket. He’ll tell Chris later, when the guy’s not setting up a date that’s kind of breaking Peter’s heart even if he was the one who told Chris to do it. God, he’s such an idiot._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Peter has a knack for making money and he’s just sleazy enough not to worry about how he does it. Naturally, he becomes a stockbroker. It happens mostly on accident. He does it freelance at first since he’s made quite a bit of money playing the stock market. Then a company hires him and suddenly he’s some Wall Street up and comer. He thinks it’s not bad for being in New York only three months.

It hits him at some point that he actually likes it. Not the stockbroking, though he enjoys that, but all of it. The New York atmosphere’s wild and exciting and it’s a nice change from Beacon Hills. He explores the city, making what he prefers to call contacts rather than friends. He’s got a lovely apartment and a nice office and more money than he knows what to do with.

He sets up a trust fund for Malia. It’s ridiculous since he can’t give it to her without telling her he’s her biological father, something he, at some point, committed himself to not doing. He still puts money in the account. There’s enough in there to support her for years, but he’s not sure any number of zeroes is going to make her accept him. He supposes he’ll never know if he doesn’t try, but another voice points out that he can’t be let down if he doesn’t try either, so he leaves it. He still gets her a Christmas present. He covers by buying gifts for the whole pack so she won’t think anything of the coyote bracelet. This has the added bonus of allowing him to get something for Allison too. He sends her a boxset of Grey’s Anatomy, which is another thing they bonded over. He’s less thoughtful with the other gifts. He can’t even remember half of them, which bugs him when he notices how big the box for Derek is.

He finds out later on Facebook that he apparently got Derek an extra fun, extra large Lego set. He learns this through Scott and Stiles, who have appropriated the gift for themselves since Derek’s too much of a grump to appreciate Harry Potter Legos. Peter’s not sure what he was thinking when he got the present, but he’s glad someone’s enjoying it.

Another surprise in Peter’s new lifestyle is his Facebook. He got it on a whim, because it was less personal than talking to any of the pack over the phone or text. He expects them to ignore him, but he actually gets friended by all of them. Even Derek, whose account was created by Stiles as a joke. The teen had operated it for a month, creating inappropriate status reports and posting Derek’s number until Derek found out and took over.

Peter catches up on the pack’s lives through the social network. He sees pictures of Chris and Allison and tries not to let his heart break over lingering feelings. He moves on with his life and proves it through gratuitous selfies of him out and about. It’s all very normal.

Peter actually starts to wonder if maybe he’s in the clear. Then something happens to Allison.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Peter doesn’t give it a second thought when he tells the company he has a family emergency and catches the next flight out to Beacon Hills. He doesn’t pack or stop to change, he just goes to the airport in his suit and takes whatever seat they’ll give him. He rents a car when he gets to the airport and drives quickly, heading for the hospital. He’s not sure of the exact nature of Allison’s accident, but they had to take her into the E.R. and Derek had sounded pretty panicked on the phone, which is a sign that things are definitely bad.

Peter’s not in the best condition to be driving, but he doesn’t pull over. He’s a bit reckless, takes turns too quickly, but it gets him to the hospital faster. He parks haphazardly and runs for the entrance. The pack’s in the waiting room. They look up in surprise when he rushes toward them. He bypasses everyone else and hones in on Chris, who’s slumped in a chair with his head in his hands. He looks up at Peter with watery eyes. To the wolf’s shock the hunter rises up and pulls him into a hug.

“How is she?” Peter asks, letting his arms curl around Chris’ back.

“They got her out of the E.R. She’s in the ICU now.” He says.

Peter lets out a breath.  He wants to ask if she’ll live but he refrains. “What happened?” He asks after Chris pulls away.

“She was out with Malia.” Derek speaks up. “They got separated and we found Allison in the woods unconscious. She lost a lot of blood.”

“And Malia?” Peter asks.

The pack exchange nervous looks. “We’re not sure what happened to her.” Scott says, glancing at Stiles sympathetically.

Peter’s jaw clenches. “Is she in danger?” He asks. He’s not sure what the pack is after, but he doesn’t like the idea of Malia out there after it. Or with it.

“We’re not sure.” Scott confesses. “We looked everywhere but she was just…gone.”

Peter’s fingers tremble by his side. He’s about to protest, to say they should all be out looking for her anyway, but he realizes there are others in the pack with more stake in her welfare and if they’re not objecting then he’s sure they have good reason. He looks back at Chris and his stomach dips. He’s at a loss for what to do. He doesn’t deal well with waiting around in general, but standing around the hospital is especially bothersome. It brings back too many memories, too many years soiled by severe burns and extended medical treatment.

Peter fiddles with his tie, fighting the way it feels like it constricts around his throat and he steps away from the pack, not saying a word as he goes off to find the vending machines. That hallway’s usually fairly empty and there’s a coffee maker over there. He can grab something to drink, and try to compose himself. He’s starting to doubt his own presence back in Beacon Hills and now that he’s here he wishes he’d stayed in New York. Then he thinks of Allison and knows the interminable silence and awkwardness will be worth it once he knows she’s alright. And once he’s found Malia.

Peter grabs a cup of coffee and stares down the corridor. If he walks all the way to the end and takes a left he’ll find his way back to his old room. He hears the beep of machines echo in the background and his hand shakes. It’s an anxious tick he’s developed lately, ever since the whole thing with Fake Chris. It’s always his left palm, and he’s not sure if there’s any significance to it but he feels the hollow weight where Chris’ ring should be. He clenches his fingers together, breathing in deep and trying to settle his nerves.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit.” Chris says, sneaking up behind him.

Peter thinks he must be out of it if he couldn’t sense the hunter coming. He tries to cover for his surprise, but he doesn’t do a good job judging by Chris’ slight eyebrow raise when he turns too quickly to look at him.

 “Shouldn’t you be in the waiting room?” Peter asks.

“I don’t like sitting around. If someone learns something, they’ll text me.” Chris explains. “It looks good on you, by the way. The suit.” 

Peter’s heart skips but he can’t summon too much enthusiasm for the compliment, given the circumstances. His clothes are wrinkled and he feels overdressed as it is. He wishes he’d paused to pack something more appropriate.

“How are you?” Chris asks, when Peter takes too long to formulate a reply.

Peter snorts. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Probably. But you’re not.” Chris points out. Peter realizes guiltily that the hunter’s right. He hadn’t thought to ask. It would have been an absurd question anyway. Chris’ daughter is in the hospital, he’s obviously not well. “So? How are you?”

“Generally speaking or right now?” Peter asks. He’s stalling. It’s not a question he feels terribly inclined to answer.

“Both.” Chris says.

Peter sighs, contemplating.

He’s happy, he thinks. Not at the moment, but back in New York he has a good life and he’s fairly content. The heartbreak’s lessened over time, but he still feels the ghost of his life with Chris on a daily basis. He’s less haunted by memories than he would be in Beacon Hills, where familiar spots and locations hover on every corner. He’d have to avoid their restaurant or their grocery store or their bench or whatever else the Fake Chris had soiled for him. In New York it’s all new, it’s all his. It’s a fresh start, even if he’s brought all his old hurts into it. It’s a change at the very least and he’s making his mark somewhere in the world.

Shapeshifter Chris has been right about one thing – Peter did want to feel important. He has that over in the big apple. He doesn’t feel like he has to scream so loud or work so hard just to get noticed, and there’s no urge to plot or destroy. The ash in his lungs is covered by smog and the echo of fire isn’t so potent. It’s life and people without hunters or supernatural threats to come in and screw everything up. Peter’s not sure how fulfilling it will be in the long run, but for the first time in a long time he feels like he’s doing something right. He left. He did the one thing he’s been too scared or trapped to do his whole life and there’s freedom in that. He didn’t self-destruct and he didn’t take his anger out on anyone. He just gave himself a second chance.

Peter uses that as his driving force. Whenever he regrets moving or he thinks about going back to Chris and Beacon Hills, he reminds himself of all his bad choices and all his horrible deeds and he reels himself back in and focusses ahead. It doesn’t make him a good man - he’ll never be that - but he thinks he might be a better one.

“I’m managing.” Peter says.

Chris nods. “Malia…” He starts, studying Peter. “We will find her.” He says.

Peter frowns, stomach flipping. “That’s not really my concern.” He protests.

“Peter.” Chris looks at him pointedly. “I know.” He says.

Peter blinks. “Your confidence is reassuring, but-”

“Not that we’ll find her.” Chris clarifies. “I know that she’s your daughter.”

The wolf feels his world tilt. Chris always seems to do that to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She looks so much like you. I can see it in her face. And when you got her that bracelet for Christmas…”

Peter clenches his jaw. That was stupid. Of course Chris would have noticed something odd about that.

“I’m not going to say anything.” The hunter promises him.

“But you think I should?” Peter asks.

“It doesn’t really matter what I think.” The other man replies.

What Chris doesn’t realize is that it does. It shouldn’t matter what he thinks, but it counts so greatly that Peter’s thoughts suddenly feel incomplete without Chris’ input. There’s an empty space in his mind where he’s waiting to fill Chris back into his life and it seems that much emptier at the hint that the man is now holding back from him.

There was a time when they used to talk about everything. Even when Peter reminds himself that last year was all Fake Chris, he still has memories from 20 years ago. He’d managed to store them way back in his mind for a while but they’d thawed out after the shapeshifter and they’re a little frayed around the edges but no less fresh.

He feels confused and frustrated. He looks away, staring at the medical poster behind Chris and trying to bury all his thoughts under a casual demeanor.

“How long are you staying?” Chris asks.

Peter glances at him in surprise. “I hadn’t really planned on anything.”

“It’s a bit late to get a hotel.” Chris says. “You can sleep in the guestroom?” He offers hopefully.

Peter’s doubtful, but he pictures Chris going back to that empty apartment, worrying over his daughter, and he nods. “Okay.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

**_May 27 th, 1989_ **

_Chris goes to prom with Cindy. Peter goes to prom with her friend Miranda, who’s surprisingly nice, but smells a bit off, like dog but not quite. They travel in Chris’ Cadillac and head into the gymnasium, where colored streamers and balloons have been set out. A disco ball hangs on the ceiling and rock music plays from the speakers up on the stage. It’s pretty much what Peter imagined prom would be._

_Chris and Peter go to get their dates punch and the wolf glances at the blond, who’s face is twisted in a frown._

_“You okay?” Peter asks._

_Chris looks up quickly, dropping the creases from his brow. “Yeah, fine.” He says, eyes not quite meeting Peter’s. The smell of deception is only confirmation of what Peter already knows. Chris is lying to him. He’s been distant for weeks now and Peter knows something’s off, but he can’t figure out what. He think sit might be the teen’s dad. He knows Gerard’s been riding Chris pretty hard. Peter’s feeling uneasy, but he comforts himself with the knowledge that in only about two months, they’ll both be on their way out of here. They already have the date set and everything. July 17 th and they’re both free. They have their acceptance letters to the University of California and they’ve saved quite a bit of money, so it’s just a matter of riding out the next two months. Peter wishes they could go sooner, but Chris wants to hang around for Kate’s 7th birthday. _

_Peter lets the lie sit between them and grabs a glass of punch for Miranda. He sniffs it curiously, cringing at the sickly sweet, chemical scent and opting out of any for himself. He heads back, following Chris in silence and feeling about a million miles of separation between them._

_Chris has trouble settling all evening. He fidgets at the table before taking Cindy out onto the dance floor, holding her close and swaying to the music. Peter watches them for a little while before turning his attention to Miranda._

_“Do you want to dance?” He asks._

_Miranda shrugs. “I’m not really a big dancer.” She says. Peter nods._

_“Me neither.” He says, hoping to dispel the awkwardness with a little honesty. It doesn’t quite work and a pause falls between them._

_“Sooo…” Miranda says. “You’re a werewolf.”_

_Peter’s eyes widen and he looks at her sharply._

_“My mom’s an emissary.” Miranda shrugs. “Pack of coyotes on the other side of town.”_

_Peter nods. That explains the smell._

_“You know Argent’s a hunter, right?” Miranda asks curiously, gesturing at where the blond’s gripping Cindy’s waist._

_“Yeah.” Peter says._

_“He know about you?”_

_Peter hesitates._

_“That’s a yes, then.” Miranda guesses. “You trust him?”_

_Peter narrows his eyes and leans in closer. “Why exactly did you come tonight?” He asks._

_Miranda grins and shakes her head. “Couldn’t pass up a date with a Hale, could I?” She says. “And the pack’s been worried.”_

_“So you’re checking up on the Argents?”_

_“Something like that.”_

_“And here I thought you were interested.” Peter says. Miranda snorts._

_“Night’s still young.” Miranda says._

_Peter smirks. “So how exactly do you get a werecoyote?” He asks curiously._

_Miranda shrugs. “Same way you get a were-anything. The bite.” She answers._

_Peter nods. “What would happen if a coyote and a wolf had a baby?”_

_Miranda raises her eyebrows. “You’re a little young for kids.”_

_Peter sneers. “Humor me.”_

_Miranda crinkles her eyebrows, thinking. “I’m not actually sure. I guess you’d get a hybrid, maybe. I mean, it’s all genetics, right? So you could have a wolf or a coyote or a human or a wolf-slash-coyote.” She says._

_Peter nods. “Does Talia know about your pack?” He asks. He hasn’t heard of them._

_“Maybe.” Miranda says, expression guarded._

_“But you don’t work with her?” Peter says._

_“No.” Miranda answers quickly. Peter looks at her questioningly and Miranda sighs. “Look, I’m not supposed to say anything.” She says quietly, watching him with a conflicted expression._

_“Pack secrets.” Peter says, understanding._

_“Yeah.” Miranda answers._

_Peter looks out at the dance floor, spotting Chris and Cindy in the crowd. It’s a slow song and each soft movement together has Peter’s gut twisting uncomfortably. “You wanna get out of here?” Peter asks Miranda._

_“Argent’s our ride.” She points out._

_“There’s a field outside.” Peter says. “They just got Lacrosse equipment and I’ve been meaning to try it out.”_

_Miranda grins. “I’m so gonna kick your ass.” She says._

_Peter beams at the challenge. “Wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He says._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

_“Have you ever even played this game?” Miranda asks, smirking at Peter under the stadium lights. Her heels have been discarded on the side of the field and her dress is streaked with dirt and grass stains, but she doesn’t seem to mind. They’ve been at it for almost an hour now and Peter’s sweating through his button up. He holds his stick aloft and pants._

_“I have not.” He says._

_“It shows.” Miranda smirks, tossing the ball into her basket with ease._

_Peter rolls his eyes but doesn’t take any hits to his pride. He’s having a lot more fun here than he was in the gymnasium anyway, so he doesn’t mind losing, especially to Miranda who’s a beast at Lacrosse. Peter can’t make heads or tails of the game, but she’s scored a phenomenal amount of goals, so he knows she’s good. Peter tilts his head and hears the announcement for the last song. They’ve already crowned the King and Queen – Chris and Cindy, which Peter resolutely doesn’t care about – and the night’s coming to an end._

_“Prom will be over soon.” Peter points out._

_Miranda nods and they move off the field, putting the equipment away and sitting down on the bleachers._

_“Your dress is ruined.” Peter notes as Miranda leans back against the seats. She hums, not caring._

_“It’s cool.” She says. “I had fun, you know?” She says, looking at him._

_Peter nods, smiling softly. “Me too.” He admits, surprised. It was set to be a pretty terrible evening, but he actually enjoyed himself._

_“Not your typical prom experience.” Miranda notes._

_“No.”_

_Miranda leans up, studying him. “You don’t have some hotel room reserved, do you?” She asks suspiciously._

_Peter snorts. “The evening didn’t go that well.”_

_Miranda smirks. “I don’t know. It was pretty good for me.”_

_Peter blinks at her. “You trying to get in my pants?” He asks._

_“Depends, you a good kisser?” She asks._

_Peter glances down at her lips uncertainly. He’s sure Chris has kissed Cindy, but he’s never asked. They haven’t really talked about how this arrangement works. “I do okay.” Peter says._

_“Modesty, I like it.” She says, smiling softly._

_Peter leans in, mouth connecting with hers. They’ve just barely brushed lips when a “Peter?” rings out over the field. Peter pulls back, looking over Miranda’s shoulder and looking at Chris and Cindy appearing around the bleachers, their crowns sitting on their head and their hands clasped together._

_Miranda groans in disappointment and turns._

_“Oh my god.” Cindy says, staring at the state of their clothes. Chris is watching Peter, a look of slight betrayal on his face. Peter shrugs and stands up, offering a hand to Miranda. “You can’t get in the car like that.” Cindy says as they walk over, pausing to collect Miranda’s shoes and Peter’s jacket._

_“We can walk.” Peter says. “My house isn’t that far, I could borrow a car and take you home.” He says._

_“No.” Chris protests. “It’s fine.”_

_Peter stares at the look on Chris’ face and is slightly disappointed. He really doesn’t want to be around Chris right now, it makes him uneasy. He’s not scared, necessarily, but the tension is draining and Peter would rather focus on the one bright spot of the evening. He can handle Chris being with Cindy, but he can’t handle how distant the guy’s gotten. Even his kisses are colder._

_“Oh, thanks.” Miranda says, glancing between Peter and Chris curiously. “You guys go ahead, we’ll catch up.”_

_Chris and Cindy depart reluctantly and Peter hangs back, looking at Miranda questioningly. He thinks the mood’s dropped too much for kissing, if that’s what she’s angling for._

_“Look, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but...well, I trust you.” She says, staring intently at Peter._

_Peter frowns. “Pack secret?” He asks._

_“Yeah.” Miranda says. She leans in closer, placing her mouth near his ear. “We have a seer.” She whispers. “We asked him about your pack and the Argents. He said all he could see was bloodshed and betrayal and ash.” She pulls back, looking at him earnestly. “Chris is bad news.”_

_“He’s not like them.” Peter says. “He’s not a hunter.”_

_“You better hope not.” Miranda says._

_Peter glances in the distance, at the beige Cadillac. “We should go.”_

_Miranda nods. “Peter.” She says quietly. “Don’t tell Talia.”_

_Peter frowns. “Why not?” He asks._

_“She’ll make you forget.” Miranda answers._

_“She wouldn’t…” Peter mutters, shaking his head._

_“She always makes people forget things.” Miranda says. “You should remember tonight. Remember me.”_

_Peter doesn’t understand._

_“Trust me, Peter.” Miranda says, holding his wrist. “Please.”_

_Peter nods uncertainly. They head back to the car and he eyes Chris cautiously._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Allison’s in a coma, but she’s stable.

They’ve been waiting in the hospital for hours and the moon’s high in the sky by the time they learn anything. It’s too late for Chris to visit her, but Mrs. McCall takes him back anyway. Peter waits out in the hallway, slouching in a chair and leaning his head back against the wall. His jacket is on the armrest beside him with his tie shoved in the pocket. His sleeves are rolled up, allowing a nice breeze over his forearms, and the top three fastens of his dress shirt are undone, exposing the top of his undershirt and letting his chest breathe. He likes the suits at work, but wearing one all day has proven constricting. He debates undoing his suspenders too, but they add an air of sophistication to his rumpled appearance and he’s afraid if he removes them he’ll look more pathetic than artfully shabby.

Peter’s eyes are closed and he’s wondering if he should get a pet when he gets back to New York. A dog would be too much hassle with his work schedule, but he could get a cat. A werewolf with a feline is probably a weird combination, but he’s always gotten along quite well with cats. Their narcissism and aloofness fit nicely with his. There’s the poop to consider though. Maybe he’ll just get a fish. He can keep it in his office and have his secretary take care of it. He makes a mental note to call Mark later and have him go to the pet store.

Peter looks up when the door to Allison’s room creaks open. Chris steps out, eyes red and puffy. Peter’s fingers itch to reach out toward him but he holds back.

“How is she?” Peter asks.

“She’ll pull through.” Chris says with a shuddering breath. “But she might be out for a while. She lost a lot of blood and it looks like she hit her head. It’ll take some time to recover.”

Peter’s heart clenches. He wants to see her, but he doesn’t ask to. It’s not his place.

They leave the hospital and head to Peter’s rental. Chris came here in the car with Derek so he doesn’t have his vehicle with him. Peter drives them back to the Argents’ and is surprised when he has trouble remembering the way. It makes him realize just how big of a distance has grown between them.

The memories come crashing back when he steps into the apartment though. It looks the same as how he left it. The spaces where his stuff used to be have been filled in with Chris and Allison’s things, but otherwise it’s pretty much identical. Peter’s breath gusts out of him when he notices his key still on the table. There’s no dust, so he knows they’ve been cleaning, but somehow they felt it necessary to leave it.

“You remember where the guestroom is?” Chris asks.

Peter nods. He looks over at the hunter and feels his stomach dip when he sees the way the man’s watching him. Blue eyes stray down to Peter’s clothes and he hears the way Chris’ pulse speeds up.

It would be foolish to do anything. Chris’ daughter is in the hospital and Peter knows the hunter is probably hungry for companionship more than he is aroused. It’s a distressing situation and it would be easy to fall prey to the rush of hormones and the lingering tension between them.

“You look good like that.” Chris says quietly before stepping away. “You should dress like that more often.”

Peter thinks he can guess the meaning behind the words. Chris wants to see him like this in other circumstances, when Allison’s not in the hospital and Malia’s not missing and Peter’s here because he wants to be. Peter doesn’t let himself hope that it’ll happen someday. He vowed that he’d stop clinging onto Chris as a possibility. Even if he hadn’t, he’s still having trouble reconciling his relationship with Shapeshifter Chris and his relationship with the real one. He finds himself wondering if this even is the real one. Maybe it’s another shapeshifter.

Peter shakes himself out of that thought. “I didn’t bring any other clothes, so you’re in luck.” Peter says to Chris.

“You can borrow mine.”

Peter should have expected the offer but he didn’t. It sends warmth racing through him. He’ll smell like Chris, he’ll be wrapped up in his clothes and his scent and it’s already filling his nose as it is. The whole apartment is coated with the hunter, heady and intoxicating and feeling exactly like home.

Peter follows Chris, staring from the doorway into what used to be their room. Chris’ aroma has filled in the other side of the bed, erasing any trace of Peter that might have been left. Both of the pillows are ruffled, evidence that Peter no longer has a space reserved for him there. He thinks back to his own bed in New York. He’s been sleeping on one side, habitually leaving room for the hunter.

With a lump in his throat, the wolf takes the sweats and v-neck offered to him. He retires hastily to the guestroom and closes the door behind him, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Peter stares up at the ceiling, dissecting the textured plaster in lieu of sleeping. His hands are laced together under his head and the blanket is intact beneath him. Past changing into Chris’ clothes and laying down he hasn’t made any particular effort to get comfortable. It’s hard to relax when he feels an odd mixture of emotions coiling in his gut.

He never slept in the guest room of the Argents’ apartment before. There’s nothing of him in here, no memories attached. It’s just a room adjacent to his past life and he can’t quite figure out how he feels about it.

It’s been months since he’s seen Chris is person. It’s been months since he’s been in Chris’ home and the longing he’s kept at bay is slamming through him in waves. He wants to be with the hunter. He wants to be next to him, under him, on top of him. He wants to kiss him, to feel his scruff framing the skin around Peter’s mouth.

The wolf blinks his eyes closed and feels the tingle on his lips. He half-remembers what Chris’ mouth feels like against his own, and the ghost of it teases across sensitive pink flesh, making his heart hammer and his lungs freeze. The smell of the hunter swirls around him and Peter thinks he’s going mad. He can feel his instincts rising up in response to the aroma and the close presence of the hunter and his body shakes. He pushes himself out of bed, walking over to the window and forcing it open. He leans his head outside, gasping in the cool night air as he tries to clear his head. It February, so it’s freezing. He can feel goosebumps break out over his skin, but he doesn’t pay it much mind. He sucks in the air gratefully, leaning out of the opening and trying to get a hold of himself.

It works marginally. It at least keeps Peter from going over to Chris’ bedroom so he can throw himself at the hunter. He’s not sure if the problem is that he hasn’t had sex in months, but he thinks he’d still be having trouble maintaining control even if he had. Even with Allison in the hospital and his confusion about his feelings, Chris has a way of reeling Peter in. He doesn’t have to do anything, his presence is enough to have Peter completely wrapped up in him.

It’s bewildering and intense.

Peter leans his head against the windowsill and sighs. He’s not going to be able to stay for very long if this is how it’s going to be. There’s a knock at the door and Peter looks up quickly, left hand trembling at his side.

“Peter?” Chris asks softly.

“I’m awake.” Peter says.

The hunter pushes the door open, slipping inside. He’s dressed in pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. Peter swallows thickly.

“I can turn the heater down.” Chris says, looking at the open window.

Peter’s face heats. “I just wanted some fresh air.” He explains quietly.

“Oh.” Chris mutters. He looks at Peter’s bed curiously then back at the wolf. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep.” He says.

“Me neither.” Peter replies. He clenches his fingers at his side, trying to stop the shaking. He feels emotions squirm around inside of him, making him dizzy.

“Peter.” Chris says, taking a small step toward him. “Look, we’re both adults so I’m just gonna ask point blank – do you want to have sex?”

Peter blinks at him before letting out a small, incredulous laugh. “Now?” He asks. “You know your daughter’s in the hospital right?”

“No, I forgot.” Chris says sarcastically. “What am I supposed to do? Sit on my ass and wait? It won’t make me feel better and then you’ll be gone again and I’ll be left wanting you just as much as I ever have.”

Peter chews his lip, considering. He grabs the hem of Chris’ borrowed shirt and pulls it over his head. “Yes.” He says. He expects Chris to start stripping too but the hunter advances forward and curves his palm around the back of Peter’s head, pulling the wolf forward into a kiss. Peter’s eyes flutter shut and he melts into it. His hands still at the waistband of his sweats and his chest floods with warmth. It’s a simple connection, but it makes everything fall into place.

Peter’s palms move to grip at the man’s waist and he presses forward, caressing Chris’ lips with his own. Calloused fingers move down to stroke at Peter’s bared torso and his abs twitch under the man’s touch. He slips his hands under the hem of Chris’ shirt, raking his nails over the hair under Chris’ belly button. The hunter gasps, pulling Peter against him and deepening the kiss.

Peter’s not sure if he should take charge or not. Usually Chris guides him, pushing him down and taking him over the edge. The hunter’s emotionally fragile at the moment, though, and he’s leaning into Peter with a desperate sort of longing, seeking companionship. The wolf thinks it might be his turn to take control of things. He’s not sure if that means he gets to top or not. He doesn’t ask.

Chris maneuvers them over to the bed and they fall onto the sheets.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Peter’s woken up at five in the morning by his cell phone. He groans, fumbling over the nightstand to grab it. He reaches to his right automatically, which results in him grabbing at Chris’ face on accident.

The hunts groans, swatting his fingers away, and Peter remembers that he’s not in New York. He doesn’t apologize, because he’s Peter Hale and he doesn’t do that. He groans noncommittally at Chris’ protest and moves to the right, retrieving his phone.

“What?” He growls into the receiver.

“Good morning to you too.” His assistant says from the other end.

Peter sighs. “Mark. It’s 5 am.”

“It’s 8 here. And you have some pretty unhappy clients.”

“I’m on vacation.” Peter grouses. Chris blinks an eye open, glaring at him.

“Family emergency right? Everything alright?” Mark asks.

Peter gets out of bed at Chris’ insistence. “I’m going, I’m going.” He mutters. “Go back to sleep.”

“What?” Mark asks.

“Not you.”

“Is someone there with you?” Mark asks in interest, latching onto the scent of gossip.

“No, I just like to talk to myself.”

“Who is she?” Mark asks. “Or is it a he? Or a them? Or a person of non-preferred gender identification?”

“Mark, shut up.” Peter growls, pushing out of the bedroom.

“An old flame perhaps? I can see it now. You return home and reunite with a past lover.” Mark sighs dreamily.

Peter rolls his eyes, sneering at his phone. Mark’s always been insufferably cheerful about everything. He practically writes odes to Mindy in accounting. He’s a good secretary though, much to Peter’s annoyance.

“Why did you call me?” Peter bites out, getting Mark back on track.

“The Sander’s stock has fallen five points. Everyone wants to sell.” Mark says.

Peter huffs. He goes into Chris’ study, hoping the computer password is still the same. He feels a wave of nostalgia when he types it in and gets into Chris’ account. He tries to bury the feeling and focus on his work.

Peter reads up on the stocks, listening idly to Mark on the other end. A phone rings insistently in the background, all of Peter’s clients calling in a panic over the fall in their shares. The wolf rolls his eyes.

“That was Marsters. He wants to sell too.” Mark says.

Peter sighs. “Tell everyone it’s going to go back up.”

“What if they don’t believe me?”

“Mark. It’s going to go back up.”

A voice speaks quietly in the background.

“Mr. Sanders is here. He wants to talk to you.” It’s Peter’s boss.

The wolf huffs, standing up from Chris’ desk chair and pacing the floor as he tries to convince his superior he didn’t just blunder some major investments. He walks over the carpet in endless cycles, trying to calm Mr. Sanders down. The man also bought some shares on Peter’s recommendation and the wolf’s going to be in big trouble if it doesn’t work out.

He tries to stay quiet but he guesses he fails, because after twenty minutes a tired Chris pushes the door open, peering in at him curiously. His hair’s ruffled from sleep and his pajamas are wrinkled. Peter can smell the remnants of their night time activities and his pupils dilate slightly.  He almost misses Mr. Sanders talking to him. He gets back on track, continuing to argue with his superior as he watches Chris out of his periphery.

His boss finally clams down and hands the phone off to Mark.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” His assistant says.

Peter rolls his eyes again. “Just get back to work. And don’t call me unless it’s an emergency. I mean it.” He orders, hanging up.

“Problems?” Chris asks.

Peter collapses in the chair, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. “Work.” He explains. “I have unhappy investors. A stock’s dropped five points.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds bad.” Chris says, approaching him.

“Five percent drop in value.” Peter says offhandedly. “Now everyone wants to sell off.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Chris asks, putting his hands on Peter’s tense shoulders. The wolf frowns a little in confusion but doesn’t stop the hunter when he starts to rub the stiffness out. He’s not sure why Chris is doing it, and he thinks he ought to protest but he leans in instead.

“I would. But it’s a scam.” He says, closing his eyes and sighing at the ease with which Chris works out the knots. “The company’s releasing a big product. If they scare a lot of investors into selling off, the major shareholders will make more money off their stocks once the product’s out on the market. They’re swindling people out of money.”

“Isn’t there a law against that?”

“Probably.” Peter snorts.

“So you’re convincing people not to sell? How very noble.”

“Not really. I’ll make a lot of money off this.”

“You’re doing pretty well for yourself.” Chris says, voice a mix of admiration and sadness.

Peter looks back at him softly. “I suppose.” He replies. He’s got everything, but he’d trade it all for Chris. He realizes how dangerous that thought process is. He left Beacon Hills to get away from all this and here he is, ready to throw it all away to be with Chris again. It’s destructive and he knows it will only leave him heartbroken, but he can’t seem to stop it.

“Allison’s been looking at colleges.” Chris says.

Peter turns and Chris’ releases his shoulders, leaning back against the desk. Peter places his thighs on either side of Chris’ legs, relaxing into the chair and watching the hunter.

“She’s thinking about going to one in New York.”

Peter’s stomach dips. “Is she?” He asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Spring Break’s coming up. We were thinking of taking a trip so she could tour some of the campuses.” Chris says. “Maybe we could visit you?”

“Stay at the apartment.” Peter offers instead.

“You sure?” Chris asks.

Peter nods. “Hotels are expensive. And I have plenty of room.”

Chris lips twitch. “Okay.” He says. “I’ll let you know the dates.”

“Good.”

There’s a pause as they watch each other.

“I should go get ready.” Chris says. “Visiting hours start soon.”

Peter watches the hunter leave, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. He’ll be seeing Chris again in March. It’s not far off. He tries to stifle the hope that blooms in him. He strokes his fingers over his left hand, feeling the empty space where Chris’ ring used to be. His hand’s steady, he realizes. Being around Chris has calmed him. He feels content and it’s terrifying.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Peter goes with Chris to the hospital. He stands in the hall, watching through the window as Chris approaches his daughter. Allison hugs her dad and Peter sighs, feeling more and more like an outside as the seconds pass. He’s always been one, but if he and Chris had gotten married like they were supposed to, he might be a bit more okay with it. Allison’s eyes flash in his direction, spotting him. Peter steps back, wondering if he ought to sit and wait or head out. He still needs to look for Malia.

Peter’s retreating when the door opens behind him.

“Peter.” Chris says. The wolf stops walking and looks back. “She wants to see you.”

Peter’s eyebrows raise. “Oh.” He says, caught off-guard. He tucks his hands in his pockets and heads back. Chris moves to the hall and holds the door open. Peter slips past him and the door shuts, leaving him alone with Allison.

“Hey.” Allison says, voice soft and hoarse.

“Hey.” Peter says, moving closer. “How are you feeling?” He asks. She looks pale and fragile in her hospital bed. It makes Peter angry and scared and protective, emotions he hasn’t felt for other people in quite a while.

“Awesome.” Allison mutters. “You?”

Peter shrugs. “I didn’t get stabbed.” He says.

Allison snorts then cringes, bringing a hand to her abdomen. Peter steps forward on instinct, reaching out toward her.

“Can I?” He asks, his palm poised over her arm.

Allison nods, holding her wrist out. He takes it gently and concentrates. Black veins move up his arm and he clenches his jaw, powering through the pain he’s sucking away. Allison sighs, relaxing against the bed.

“Better than morphine.” Peter says when he steps back.

“Thanks.” Allison whispers. Peter nods. Silence falls on them and Peter watches her, taking in the way her blinks lengthen, sleep hovering just at the edges. She shakes herself out of it and looks at him curiously. “You and my dad…” She starts. “Are you-?”

“We’re not back together.” Peter says. “I’m just visiting.”

Allison nods. “He told me about you and him. High school sweethearts.” She mutters, quoting the Fake Chris’ words.

“Like you and Scott.” Peter says.

Allison smiles softly at the reminder. “You were supposed to run away together.” She notes.

Peter’s jaw ticks and he looks away, staring at the curtains. “Yeah.” He breathes.

“Why’d you stay?” She asks.

Peter sighs. “Even I’m prone to romantic illusions.” He says.

“You were waiting for him.” Allison notes.

“I suppose I was.”

“Why?” She asks.

Peter frowns, thinking. He tries to pull the memory up but can’t quite reach it. “I guess I thought he’d come back.” He mutters.

“Did you ever give up hope?” She asks and Peter’s starting to suspect this is more about Scott than him and Chris. Peter thinks back, sure he did. The harder he tries to remember, the fuzzier it all gets. He lifts a hand, massaging his temple. “Peter?” Allison asks.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

**_July 18 th 1989_ **

_It’s 3 in the morning. Peter sneaks into the mansion through the backway. The entrance to his basement room is near the rear exit, so it’s a short tiptoe across the hallway and then he pushes the door open, careful not to let it creak. In the darkness, he descends down the staircase, hurrying to his room. He’s already got a backpack packed under his bed, with his ID and an emergency stash of money. He and Chris were supposed to be leaving tonight, but he guesses he's going without the hunter now. He could stick around, rearrange his plans to better suit himself, but he's got no real reason to stay, so he might as well head out and be done with it._

_Peter goes to his bedside, not even bothering to turn on the lamp as he reaches under the mattress, feeling along the floor for his backpack. He frowns when he doesn’t find it. He always keeps it there. He turns on the lamp after that and ransacks his room, looking everywhere for the bag. When it doesn’t turn up, he looks for any form of ID or money he has on him. He keeps a piggy bank and a box with cash in it, so he searches for those and his passport. He doesn’t find them either._

_There’s a creak on the staircase and Peter looks up, watching Talia come into view._

_“Looking for this?” Talia asks, holding up his emergency backpack._

_“That’s mine.” Peter steps toward her and Talia pulls the bag back, clearly having no intention of giving it to him._

_“Your money and your passport’s locked away safe.” Talia assures him and Peter frowns._

_“What do you mean?” He asks._

_Talia’s giving him this look, half-sympathetic and half-resigned._

_“You can’t keep me here.” Peter says, stomach twisting uncomfortably with suspicion._

_“Peter…” Talia starts._

_Peter gapes at her in horrified realization. “You can’t keep me here!” He insists more strongly. “I’m 18, I’m going to college.”_

_“No, Peter.” Talia says. She lets out a slow breath, steadying herself. “I know about you and that hunter…”_

_Peter falters. “It’s over, he…we’re done.” He explains quietly._

_“You put my family in danger. You put yourself in danger.” Talia says._

_“So kick me out.” Peter begs, desperate. “Let me go, or I swear to god, I will do everything I can to destroy this family.”_

_Talia’s face hardens. “I’m sure you’ll try.” She says. “But I can’t let you go, Peter. You’re…a liability.”_

_“A liability?” Peter echoes in disgust. “I’ve bent over backwards for those stupid kids. Kids that I don’t even like. It’s my chance to go. It’s my chance to leave this shithole. I’m taking it.”_

_“I contacted the college.” Talia says. “And withdrew you.”_

_“You had no right-”_

_“You could have killed all of us!” Talia shouts, eyes flashing red. “I told you to be careful. You promised me you would be and you weren’t. He could use anything you told him to destroy all of us.”_

_“He wouldn’t do that.” Peter protests._

_“Wouldn’t he? He’s a hunter, Peter. They’re all hunters.” Talia snarls. “And you let him into your life. Into our lives. I won’t stand for it.”_

_“So what are you going to do, kill me?” Peter asks._

_“No. I’m going to watch you.”_

_Peter thinks he’d prefer death. “You can’t do this. Talia, please don’t do this. I just want to leave. I swear, if you just let me leave, I’ll stay away…”_

_Talia shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Peter. But I can’t trust you.”_

_“If I’m gone it doesn’t matter!” Peter snarls, stepping toward her threateningly._

_“And if something happens to you?” Talia asks. “I can’t protect you like that Peter.”_

_“I don’t want your protection!”_

_“But you need it.”_

_Peter shakes his head. “No, Talia, I don’t. And you can’t stop me from leaving.”_

_“I can try.” Talia promises._

_Peter sees Deaton coming down behind her and frowns in confusion. “What?” He asks._

_Deaton has mountain ash in his palm. It’s then that Peter notices the line, spreading around his room. It’s not completed yet, coming up on each side of the bottom step. His eyes widen in terror as Deaton tips a vial, finishing the square._

_“No!” He roars, dashing forward. He comes up against the ash barrier and glares at his sister, eyes leaking horrified, frustrated tears and lips trembling. “You can’t do this to me Talia! I won’t rot away in this goddamn town! I’M SUPPOSED TO BE LEAVING!”_

_Talia turns, following Deaton up the staircase and Peter howls, pushing against the mountain ash and sobbing._

_“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” He wails, collapsing on the floor. He spears his claws into the wood, tearing at it as he weeps into the boards._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

“I’m fine.” Peter says, waving off Allison’s concern. He still can’t reach it, whatever memory’s sitting in there, but he gives up. He’s used to blank spots at this point. He sometimes wonders just how much Talia took.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> 

**_December 11 th, 1993_ **

_Peter sits at the bar, some seedy dive on the edge of town. There’s no point to it, since he can’t get drunk, but he likes the burn of whiskey and the dismal atmosphere. It suits him._

_“Peter?”_

_Peter looks back, spotting a woman about his age. She watches him with a surprised, guarded expression. Peter frowns, confused. She smells like dog and the hair on the back of his neck prickles._

_“Yeah?” He asks._

_“You don’t remember me, do you?” She asks._

_Peter waits expectantly._

_“I’m Miranda. We went to prom together.” She says._  


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, and we're at the end. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Peter leaves the hospital behind and heads for the woods. He passes buildings and streets along the way, staring out at a dull landscape that’s jarringly familiar and utterly unwelcoming. He supposes he ought to feel some sense of nostalgia for Beacon Hills - it was is home for 40 years, after all – but he doesn’t.

Peter struggles to remember a time when he didn’t hate Beacon Hills. He knows those moments exist, buried far back in the pit of his mind, where a fragment of childhood frivolity still remains, blurry and mostly forgotten. There were years in his life, where he ran through the woods and played in the river with a sister he loved dearly. There were days when the forest was an eternal wonderland and the town was a blossoming community full of friendly faces. There was a time when Beacon Hills felt like heaven.

Things changed. Peter’s not sure when, but as he got older, the town shrunk, the forest became hazardous, and the sister he loved dearly turned into a distant, overbearing alpha that he couldn’t wait to get away from. He suffocated, slowly. He waited, like a lovestruck teenager, on a man he knew wouldn’t come back to him. He devoted himself to a pack he didn’t like. He turned himself into a sad wretch and he can only blame himself for it.

Peter thinks about Allison’s question and his brain fogs over, head feeling like it’s full of still-water instead of working neurons. He never put much thought into why he stayed. It seemed like the thing to do, somehow. But after the year he’s had, after all this time, he finds himself reflecting, honestly turning the question over to make sense of it. He thinks about what happened with Fake Chris and how he’s been processing it, and wonders if it was really so important to wait for the hunter the first time around. Something tells him it wasn’t. 18-year-old Peter could be foolish, but not that foolish.

Peter parks on the edge of the woods and sighs. It’s no use trying to remember on his own. Whatever memories were there have either been taken or so deeply buried he can’t get to them anymore. He rubs his temple, trying to alleviate the headache, and exits the car. 

As Peter approaches the tree line the rest of the pack appears. He’s not sure if Chris called them or if they were already prepared to search for Malia, but it works out either way. They pair-off and Peter ends up with Lydia.

“You’re not…sensing anything, are you?” Peter asks, trying to keep the hesitation out of his voice as he looks back at the banshee.

Lydia shakes her head. “Not yet.”

Peter relaxes marginally. “Your abilities, have you honed them?”

“No thanks to you.” Lydia says. Peter frowns, glancing back at her.

“I can’t teach you everything.”

Lydia glares. “You didn’t teach me anything.”

“I taught you to listen.” Peter snaps. “So listen.”

Lydia huffs and keeps moving, straining to hear Malia. Minutes tick by and Peter looks over at her contemplatively.

“Memories.” Peter says, drawing her attention. “Can you retrieve those yet?” He asks.

Lydia frowns. “You mean like with Malia?”

Peter nods.

“I haven’t tried it.” Lydia says.

“I can help you with that.” Peter offers. Lydia narrows her eyes suspiciously.

“Why do I feel like this is more of a favor for you than me?” She mutters.

Peter doesn’t give her an answer.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

**_December 11 th, 1993_ **

_Peter sits in the booth across from Miranda, watching her warily. “So, we went to prom together?” He asks, taking a swig of his drink._

_“Yeah, Peter, we did.” Miranda says, jiggling her leg under the table and studying him. “You really don’t remember?”_

_“Sorry.” He says, not quite sure if he means it or not._

_Miranda sighs. “You told Talia didn’t you?” She asks before remembering that he wouldn’t know that._

_Peter stiffens. “Told her what? How do you know my sister?”_

_“Here’s the rundown: I’m a werecoyote-”_

_“You’re a what?” Peter interrupts._

_“I wasn’t one, when we met. But some stuff went down.” Miranda says. “I was with a pack out in town. They, uh, they’re not there anymore.”_

_“What happened?” Peter asks._

_“It doesn’t matter.” Miranda says. “Look, a while ago I told you something, about the Argents and the Hales.”_

_Peter frowns._

_“I made you promise not to tell Talia, but I guess that didn’t work out.” She says._

_“What did you tell me?”_

_Miranda studies him, jaw clenching. “Why are you still here, Peter?” She asks._

_“What?”_

_“What are you doing in Beacon Hills? What are you doing with the Hale pack?” She asks._

_“Where else would I be?”_

_“Los Angeles.” Miranda says. “That scholarship you told me about, the basketball one. You were so excited.”_

_Peter frowns, confused. “I…” He stops, shaking his head and thinking._

_Miranda’s brows come together. “God, how much did she take from you?” She mutters._

_“Nothing.” Peter protests, glaring down at his drink._

_“What happened to Chris?” Miranda asks._

_Peter shrugs, sipping his whiskey. “He left.” He says._

_“Sorry.” Miranda says. “I was really rooting for you guys.”_

_Peter looks up sharply. “You knew?”_

_“That you were friends?” She asks. “Yeah. It was kind of obvious when he drove us to prom.”_

_Peter gets a vague snippet of Chris and Cindy as Prom King and Queen, but that’s all he can get from the night._

_“Oh, right.” He says._

_“So he decided to hunt?” Miranda guesses._

_“Yeah.” Peter says._

_“That blows.” Miranda mutters._

_“Yeah, it does.”_

_Miranda sighs, studying him curiously. “Seriously, Peter, why are you here?”_

_Peter looks up at her, feeling the odd connection running between them. “I don’t know.” He confesses. “Why are you here?” He asks._

_“It’s my home.” Miranda says. “Plus…” She holds up her hand, flashing the engagement ring._

_“You’re getting married?” Peter says, surprised and not sure why. She’s just a stranger to him, even though she doesn’t feel like one._

_“Yeah.” Miranda says. “Soon to be Mrs. Tate.” She says._

_“You don’t sound too excited.” Peter notes._

_“I’m…happy.” She concludes, staring down at her ring. “He’s a nice guy. Has a job, treats me right.”_

_“Does he know about you? What you are?” Peter asks._

_“No.” Miranda says. “I thought it would be better that way.”_

_Peter nods._

_“God, I wish you remembered me.” Miranda says, looking up at him. “You know, you still owe me a kiss.”_

_Peter raises his eyebrows. “What about Mr. Tate?” He asks, nodding to her ring._

_“I’m not asking for anything. Just a night.” Miranda says. “I can satisfy my curiosity and you can have something to remember me by.”_

_“That is the weirdest proposition I’ve ever heard.” Peter notes._

_Miranda smirks. “You get a lot of propositions?”_

_“I do okay.”_

_“Modesty, I like it.” She says wistfully._

_“Why are you marrying him?” Peter asks curiously. “You’re my age, right?”_

_Miranda shrugs. “22.” She says._

_“Not exactly a spinster.” Peter points out._

_“I know.” Miranda says. “But it doesn’t matter. I got no family, no pack, nothing.”_

_“So you’re settling.”_

_“No, I’m not. He’s great, he really is.” Miranda says._

_Peter chews his cheek, thinking. “But not great enough to keep you from coming with me to the hotel across the street?” He asks._

_Miranda perks up. “Is that an offer?”_

_Peter smirks, slipping out of his seat. “Follow me and find out.” He says, dropping some bills on the table and heading for the door. Miranda grins and hurries after him._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

They find Malia stuck in her coyote form again. She transformed defensively when she and Allison got attacked and hadn’t been able to turn back again. Scott knocks her out of it and Peter feels some of the tension and worry leak out of him. He gives Malia a brief nod when she passes, but otherwise doesn’t engage her. She spares him a glance and moves on, unaware and uncaring of the significance of his presence.

“You could tell her.” Lydia says quietly, standing by his side.

“You think she’d be better off?” Peter asks, watching Malia embrace Stiles.

“I don’t know.” Lydia says, thinking. She looks far away and Peter guesses she’s remembering Jackson. “I think you don’t know until you try.”

“Would you want to know, if I was your father?” Peter mutters, arms crossed over his chest and expression taut.

Lydia looks over at him thoughtfully. “No.” She admits. “But I’m not her.” She says, glancing at Malia. 

Peter frowns, watching his daughter curiously.

“Her mom,” Lydia starts. “Do you remember her?”

Peter frowns. “We should go to Derek’s.” He says, avoiding the question and moving toward his car. Lydia sighs, put off by his evasiveness but following after him anyway.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

**_December 11 th, 1993_ **

_Peter and Miranda lay in bed, watching the sun set reflect off the hotel room ceiling. Miranda’s head rests on his chest and Peter’s arm loops around her back, his palm rubbing circles into her shoulder blade. She looks up at him, smiling softly._

_“This is nice.” She says._

_Peter’s lips twitch. “It’s okay.” He says._

_Miranda snorts. “Don’t be a jerk.” She admonishes._

_Peter grins. “It is. Nice.” He admits. It’s better than nice. There’s something about Miranda that makes things feel so easy, like being with an old friend and a soulmate. It’s like finding someone who just getsyou without having to know the details. It’s not the same type of love he had for Chris. It’s not better or worse though, it’s just different. Peter wonders why Talia would take the memory of Miranda away from him._

_“What is it?” Miranda asks, noticing his frown._

_“That thing you told me at prom, what was it?” He asks, looking down at her._

_“I don’t know if it matters now.” She answers. “The Argents are gone, right?”_

_“For now.” Peter says. He doubts they’ll be gone forever, not as long as the Hales are around._

_Miranda hums thoughtfully. “You should leave, before they come back.” She says._

_Peter falters. “I don’t think I can.” He says uncertainly._

_“Why not?” Miranda asks. “It would be so easy. You and I could get in a car now and just drive.”_

_“What about your wedding?”_

_“Let me worry about that.” Miranda says. “Seriously, Peter, think about it. Freedom. Being away from Beacon Hills. Isn’t that what you want?”_

_Peter gives a short nod. “Yeah.” He says, contemplating it and feeling like he’s thinking properly for the first time in years._

_“Then why not have it?” Miranda asks._

_“What about you?” Peter inquires._

_“I’m not saying I want to leave, but I would, if it was with you.”_

_Peter frowns. “Why?” He asks, trying to understand._

_“I honestly have no idea.” Miranda admits, laughing._

_Peter lets out a small chuckle of his own. “This is ridiculous.” He notes._

_“It is, but so what?” Miranda says._

_“Okay, let’s do it.” Peter says._

_It’s exhilarating, pulling their clothes on and rushing out to the parking lot. Miranda hotwires a truck and they hop in, racing toward the way out of town. They’re nearing the edge when Peter stiffens, seeing Talia standing in the middle of the road waiting for them. Two betas flank her. They’re relatives of Peter’s, but sometimes he thinks of them less as family and more like pawns._

_“Fuck.” Miranda curses. “How the hell did she know?”_

_Peter swallows thickly, heart racing in his chest. He glances at Miranda then back at Talia. “If they don’t let you pass, reverse back into town.” He says, unbuckling his seatbelt._

_“Peter?” Miranda asks._

_“Maybe next time.” Peter says, grabbing the door handle._

_“No, Peter, we can get around them.”_

_Peter looks at her wistfully. “It was nice.” He says._

_“Wait!” Miranda asks, grabbing his wrist. He glances out at Talia, whose brows furrow. “If the Argents come back, don’t go near them.” She warns. “I can’t tell you how I know, but they’ll destroy you and your pack.”_

_The betas come closer and Peter nods. “Okay.” He says. “Piece of advice,” He starts, eyeing the approaching wolves, “Punch it and aim for him.” He says, pointing at his cousin Ian. Miranda nods, pressing down on the gas, and Peter dives out of the car. The truck barrels forward, slamming into the Ian and sending him back into the trees. Talia growls, torn between Miranda and Peter. Peter rolls out onto the pavement and lands in a crouch. He straightens quickly and the still-standing beta grabs him in a rough grip._

_Talia glances at Ian, who’s groaning and laying on the ground. His bones are broken and he’s got a large gash on his temple that’s leaking blood. Miranda’s already off in the distance, getting out of the city limits and heading toward the highway._

_“Peter.” Talia says quietly, walking towards him._

_“Sister.” Peter says, smirking. It’s a habit he’s developed lately, to be as flippant as possible with regards to his relations. It’s better than moping and it has the upside of driving everyone to extreme states of irritation._

_Predictably, Talia’s jaw ticks and her eyes narrow. She steps into his space and places a hand against his cheek, cupping his face and staring at him in disappointment. He tries to flinch away and she grabs his chin, holding him in place. “So much darkness.” She says sadly._

_“It was just a trip out of town.” Peter says._

_Talia frowns. “And what if the Argents come back while you’re gone?” She asks. “You gave us away, Peter. Anything that happens to us now is on your shoulders.” She says. “You’re a traitor. The minute you leave town, you’re a fugitive. You know what other packs do to those like you.”_

_Peter grits his teeth, keeping his glare steady on his sister._

_“I’m protecting you, Peter. And your friend.” She says, referencing Miranda. Her hand moves to the back of his neck and Peter feels claws prick the skin._

_“No!” He protests, trying to move away._

_“I’m sorry, brother.” Talia says, letting her nails sink in. Peter clenches his jaw and muffles his scream. His eyes squeeze shut as burning pain flashes through his spine and up to his brain, where the organ’s compressed as the memory’s pulled out._

_After a minute, her hand retreats and Peter blinks his eyes open, looking around in confusion._

_“Talia?” Peter asks. Hands release him and he looks to his side, spotting one of his cousins. He looks back at his sister then over her shoulder, where Ian’s limping toward them and glaring._

_“You little sh-”_

_“Ian!” Talia says, interrupting the wolf._

_Peter watches in confusion then hisses, lifting his hand up to his neck, where the flesh stings as it stitches back together. “What’s going on?” He asks._

_“Just a spot of trouble, but we ran them out of town.” Talia explains._

_“Why don’t I remember?” Peter mutters, frowning._

_“You got hit pretty hard.” Talia says, tracing his temple. “We’ll have Deaton look at you.” She places a light hand on his shoulder, steering him back towards town. Peter goes dazedly. He glances back, looking at the road out of town, bewildered. He blinks and sees a brief flash of a truck barreling down the street. He blinks again and it’s gone, like a piece of memory he can’t quite place. He tries to shake it off and focuses back ahead, something unsettling twisting in his chest. With each step back into town, he feels slightly more like he’s suffocating._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Peter sits in Derek’s loft, watching Lydia carefully. They’re in the living room, seated at the coffee table, and Lydia’s studying Talia’s claws, picking up each one then setting it back down.

“What do you hear?” Peter asks.

Lydia shuts her eyes and tilts her head. “It’s like static. And there’s this hum. Voices. So many voices.” She mutters.

Peter nods, hope dwindling. He’s not sure exactly what memories he’s looking for and he’s growing less confident that Lydia will be able to find them.

Derek sighs from his spot on the staircase and moves to get up.

“Don’t.” Lydia warns. Derek’s too distracting to have in the room with them and she needs to focus all her energy.

Derek huffs and settles down again.

“Maybe you should leave.” Peter notes. His nephew glares.

“No.” Derek says, arms crossed defiantly. He doesn’t trust his uncle enough to leave him entirely alone.

Peter sneers. “Really, nephew, exactly what do you think I’m going to do?”

Derek glares and opens his mouth to answer. Whatever he’s going to say is cut off by Lydia.  

“Both of you shut up.” She hisses, leaning in closer to the claws and furrowing her brows.

“What are you getting?” Peter asks.

“Won’t know until you shut up.” She grits out. She concentrates forcefully and the claws vibrate on the tabletop, moving together and pointing upward. Peter watches them in surprise, feeling the raw power emanating off Lydia and flowing down into the nails. “Talia?” Lydia whispers, her hand coming upward. She places her fingertips on top of the claws, each pad connecting to the matching digit, mirroring Talia’s hand. It’s silent and Lydia reaches her other palm out, grabbing Peter’s wrist. The wolf looks down in surprise.

“Lydia?” He says curiously.

Lydia’s breath stutters and she twitches. “No.” She whispers. “Don’t.”

Peter frowns. “Lydia?” He asks, trying to pull his hand away. Lydia’s grip tightens and her fingernails dig into his wrist. He cringes.

“Don’t forget me.” Lydia says, breath quickening.

“Peter?” Derek says, rising from the step and watching nervously.

Peter tries to move his hand away but Lydia’s grip is strong, supernaturally so. Power pulses around her, her aura tinging green, and Peter’s eyes widen.

“Let me- let me go, Talia. Talia, let me go. Let me-” Lydia freezes, everything going eerily still for a moment, and then she throws her head back. Her eyes blow wide, glowing green, and she screams. The windows rattle and the light fixtures shake.

Peter cries out, dropping from his seat and clutching at his head as flashes of memory transfer from Lydia to him.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

**_September 20 th, 1994_ **

_Peter stands in the hospital, staring at the room and trying to convince himself to go in. He hears a baby crying from the other side and gulps. His hand rises hesitantly, feeling the cool metal handle under his palm, and he pushes it down, stepping inside the room._

_There’s a woman in there, looking sweaty and exhausted. Her matted brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail and her face is ruddy from exertion. Her head lolls back on the pillows as she rocks a small bundle._

_“Peter.” She says softly, looking at him._

_“I got your letter.” Peter says, holding the folded parchment up. It was tucked in his windowsill, snuck there during the night by a friend of Miranda’s. Peter studies the woman’s face, trying to summon her memory but not able to._

_“Good.” Miranda says. “Peter, this is your daughter.”_

_Peter’s breath gusts out of him. He steps closer, staring down at the little baby. “How?” He mutters._

_“You read the letter.” Miranda says._

_“Prom, one-night stand.” Peter nods. “We tried to run away together?” He asks, recalling the detail._

_“Yeah, we did.” Miranda says._

_“You got away.” Peter says. “Why’d you come back?”_

_“I found out I was pregnant.” Miranda says. She looks down at the baby and smiles. “William thinks she’s his.”_

_“Boyfriend?” Peter asks._

_“Husband.” Miranda says, showing him the wedding band on her finger._

_“Oh.” Peter says. “Congratulations.”_

_“Thanks.” Miranda says, smiling up at him. “We’re good. Happy.”_

_“That’s great.” Peter tells her, looking down at his daughter._

_“I thought you should meet her, at least once.” Miranda says. The baby’s still crying and Peter struggles not to reach out toward her._

_“Can I hold her?” He asks._

_“Of course.” Miranda says, handing him the child. Peter wraps his arms around the baby, leaning her head against the crook of his elbow and rocking her. The crying stops and he smiles. “She likes you.” Miranda says happily. “Must take after her mother.”_

_Peter looks up at the woman. “What’s her name?” He asks._

_“Malia.” Miranda says. “After my mom.”_

_“It’s a good name.” Peter says, looking down at his baby. Her fingers twitch out and he shifts, letting her curl tiny digits around his thumb. “Malia.” He says, testing out the taste of it. He feels the letters on his tongue and the echo on his teeth. His lips form the unfamiliar shapes, assigning them to the tiny child in his arms. “I like it.” He decides. “Malia.” He repeats, grinning as the child coos. Tears prick at his eyelids and he looks up at Miranda and lets out a small, joyful breath of laughter. “I have a daughter.” He says, struck by the realization._

_“Yeah, you do.” Miranda says. She reaches out, gently gripping his wrist. “I’m happy you’re here.”_

_“Me too.” Peter says. He stares down at his baby. He sniffs her, smelling the fresh scent of his child. She’s a mixture of him and Miranda, with a touch of canine in the mix. “She’s not a wolf.” He notes._

_“Coyote.” Miranda says. “I was right about the genetics.”_

_Peter looks at her in confusion and she waves it off._

_“Another thing you don’t remember.” She says._

_Peter nods, taking in his little baby. “Hey, Malia.” He whispers. “It’s your dad.”_

_Miranda gives him a sad smile._

_“What?” Peter asks, frowning at the pain in her face._

_“You’re not gonna remember this.” Miranda says, voice tinging with resigned distress._

_“I will.” Peter says._

_“No, you won’t.” Miranda says, clutching his arm firmly. “But it’s okay.” She assures him. “It’s not your fault.”_

_Peter swallows around a ball of terror in his throat. “I don’t want to forget.” He says. Malia starts crying and he stiffens, the hairs on his neck standing on end._

_“It’s too late.” Miranda says._

_Peter turns, watching shadows pass by the window outside. “No.” He says, tightening his grip on Malia._

_“It’s okay, Peter.” Miranda says._

_“No, it’s not. She can’t take this from me.” Peter shouts. There’s a pause outside the door and then it opens. “Talia, don’t.” He says._

_Talia glances down at the baby and looks up at him regretfully. “I’m sorry, Peter.” She says, stepping into the room. Her betas follow after her, four of them this time._

_Peter gapes in horror. “Don’t do this, Talia. Just, let me have this. Please, let me have this.”_

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Peter screams, convulsing as his mind twists with a memory. It’s winter of 93 and he’s with Miranda. He remembers the bar and the hotel room. He remembers trying to run away. He remembers Talia stopping him. He tries to pull away from Lydia as he fills with pain and sorrow, each emotion clawing at his chest and making him wish it would stop. He’s changed his mind. He doesn’t want to remember anymore.

The scene changes, 1994. A hospital. Malia’s birth. Peter grips at his temple, wailing in pain.

Derek clutches at his ears, vision going blurry from the vibration of Lydia’s roar. He tries to work closer to them as the lights shatter and the walls crack.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

**_September 20 th, 1994_ **

_“You can’t keep her.” Talia says as the betas advance, flanking Peter. The wolf’s trapped. He can’t do anything, less out of fear of drawing attention and more out of fear of hurting his daughter. “Peter, let go of the child.” Talia says, equally reluctant to hurt Malia._

_“No.” Peter says. As long as he holds her, Talia can’t steal her from him._

_“Leave us.” Talia orders her betas. They file out of the room and Peter watches his sister warily. She takes slow steps around the bed, studying Miranda. “You’re very stubborn.” She notes, tone neutral but eyes simmering with anger._

_“He deserves to know.” Miranda says._

_“Does he?” Talia asks. She comes up beside Miranda, whose eyes flash warningly. She’s too weak to properly fight, but that doesn’t mean she won’t try. “I always thought Peter was the problem. Him and that hunter. But it’s you. You just won’t leave him alone.”_

_“He’s never alone, is he?” Miranda points out, glowering._

_“No, he isn’t.” Talia says softly. “He has a pack, a family.”_

_“He’s a hostage.”_

_“He’s loved.” Talia counters. “And he’s safe.” She says. “You’re not going to take that away from him.” Her hand comes up, stroking along Miranda’s neck, and the coyote stiffens, lashing out._

_Peter watches with wide eyes. “Don’t, Talia.” He says._

_“I have to or she’ll never leave us alone.” Talia replies, slipping her claws into Miranda’s spine, despite the woman’s struggles. Miranda cries out, back bowing and eyes squeezing shut._

_“Talia, stop!” Peter says, panicking. “No, Miranda, no. Talia, stop! Please stop.” Peter urges, coming up beside her and trying to shove Talia away._

_Two betas come in, grabbing Peter and stilling him. Malia cries in his arms and Peter watches in horror. There are too many memories, too many moments for Talia to find and erase, and they’re all years apart. Talia’s eyes are shut as she seeks them out, tugging them away from Miranda._

_“No.” Peter whispers. “Please, Miranda, remember me.” He urges. “Please, remember me.” Tears drip down his cheeks and his heart snaps in his chest. “Remember me.” He whispers, like a mantra over and over again._

_Talia pulls away after ten minutes, gasping and tilting from the strain._

_“Talia?” A beta asks, concerned._

_“I’m fine.” She says. “Get the baby.”_

_Malia’s taken from Peter and he feels the loss tear at his insides. Miranda opens her eyes, panting and looking around. Peter’s breath stills and he watches, hoping and praying that it didn’t work._

_“Malia?” Miranda says, staring at her baby in the foreign beta’s arms. “What are you doing?”_

_“We were passing through.” Talia says. “We heard there was a new were in town and wanted to offer our congratulations._

_Miranda looks at Talia suspiciously. She glances at the other wolves and her eyes linger on Peter, curious at the distress on his features. “Are you alright?” She asks._

_“You’ll have to forgive my brother.” Talia says gently. “He recently lost his child.” She says, gesturing for the beta to hand Malia back._

_“Oh, I’m sorry.” Miranda says, taking her baby and looking at Peter as though he’s a total stranger._

_“Thank you for indulging us.” Talia says. “She really is a lovely baby.” She says, admiring Malia._

_Miranda smiles uncertainly. “You’re welcome.” She says, dazed and bewildered._

_“Goodbye.” Talia says, turning away and exiting the room. Miranda stares after her distrustfully._

_Peter’s steered away by the betas, too shocked to even move properly as he feels everything crumbling down around him._

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

**_September 23 rd, 1994_ **

_“Come in.” Talia’s voice rings out crisp and clear from the room. Peter steps inside her study, staring at where she’s seated in the large oak chair behind the desk. It’s plenty warm, even at this time of night, but there’s still a fire going in the hearth, lighting her features dramatically. “Peter.” She greets. “How are you?”_

_Peter doesn’t bother answering the question. He’s broken out of his shock and now it’s just pain. He feels hollow and pointless._

_“Peter.” Talia says softly, rising from her seat and approaching him. He flinches away and she stills, watching him sadly. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this between us.”_

_Peter’s jaw ticks and he clenches his hands into fists. “Maybe it doesn’t.” He mutters. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the letter from Miranda. He sniffs, staring down at the well-worn creases. He steps over to the fireplace, hesitating for just a second before he puts the paper in. He watches the edges turn black and curl as the flames consume them. He looks back, meeting his sister’s eye. “Can you take it away?” He asks quietly. Talia tilts her head curiously and he swallows against the lump in his throat. “I want to forget.” He confesses._

_Talia smiles softly, looking almost proud. “Of course, Peter.” She says._

_He lets out a strained breath and comes closer to her. “Thank you.” He whispers, because it’s fucked up but he’s so grateful to her at the moment._

_“You’re welcome.” Talia says, cupping his cheek in a gentle gesture before sliding her hand around._

_Peter clenches his jaw, blinking away tears._

**_Ma-li-a_ **

_He says it in his head, sounds out each syllable while he thinks of the little baby he held so close in his arms. The large break in his heart spans out into spider-web cracks, fracturing the two halves into smaller pieces. They shrink and crumble into dust, leaving him empty and full of hate._

_Talia embeds her claws in his spine and he doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even close his eyes. His knees go weak beneath him and he kneels on the carpet in front of her, staring out unseeingly as Malia’s taken from him. Tears fall from the edges of his eyelids, leaving tracks down his cheeks. He doesn’t sob or sniff. There’s no energy in the crying, just hollow sorrow that fades along with Malia’s memory. Rage builds in its place._

_Talia’s hand leaves him and Peter stares ahead, taking in the walls of her study and frowning. He never comes in here._

_“Peter?” Talia asks._

_Peter looks up at her and something dark twists in the back of his chest. He feels hatred burn acrid in his abdomen and he’s not sure why. “Talia.” He says, rising from the carpet and looking around the room. He wipes at his cheeks, wondering why they’re wet._

_“Are you alright?” Talia asks, looking genuinely unsettled by something in Peter’s demeanor. He’s not sure what._

_“Perfect.” Peter says dismissively. There’s no reason he wouldn’t be. Talia nods, watching him retreat with furrowed eyebrows._

_Peter steps out into the hall._

_“Uncle Peter.” Laura says, coming toward him. “What are you doing up here?” She asks._

_Peter looks at her, staring into the glimmering eyes of his niece. He feels…annoyed. Which isn’t unusual, but it’s a cold, distant annoyance, completely barren of familial affection._

_She’ll be alpha one day, he thinks idly. If he lives long enough, she’ll be his alpha. Peter’s fingers itch._

_“I came to read you a bedtime story.” He says._

_Laura blinks. “I’m a little old.” She says._

_“Only eleven.” Peter says. “Come on, I’ll read it to you and Derek.” He insists, gesturing her down the hallway._

_“Okay.” She says, a little confused. “Which one?” She asks._

_“How about Little Red Ridinghood?” He suggests._

_“Oh, I like that one.”_

_“Me too, Laura.” Peter mutters. “Me too.”_

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Derek manages to grab Lydia and she flinches back, releasing Peter and losing contact with the claws. She takes in ragged inhales, staring around with wide eyes. Her hand flies up, covering her trembling lips and muffling frail sobs. Peter drops back against the armchair and sits frozen. His eyes move back and forth wildly as images dance in front of him. The stolen memories slot themselves back into place, making him dizzy. It’s not all of them. He knows there are more hidden in his sister’s claws, but he’s seen enough. He at least knows how Malia came about and why Talia stole the recollection from him, though he wishes now that he didn’t.

Lydia shudders and scrambles away from the couch, looking at the claws in horror. “So much pain.” She gasps, gripping at her chest. “I can’t…” She mutters, shaking her head.

“Lydia?” Derek asks, watching her in concern.

“I could feel everything.” Lydia chokes out, fingers clenching over her heart.

“I’ll take you home.” Derek offers and Lydia nods faintly, grabbing her bag and fleeing for the exit. “What the hell did you see?” Derek asks, looking down at his uncle like it’s Peter’s fault.

“Enough.” The older wolf says quietly. “You should go after her.”

Derek’s jaw clenches. “I’m hiding these.” He says, scooping up his mother’s claws and dropping them back into the container.

Peter nods, feeling no need to protest.

Derek studies his uncle, waiting for retorts or barbs or any of his normal behavior, but the wolf just sits there, stunned.

“This is the last time.” Derek says sternly. “Don’t ask Lydia to do this again.”

“Don’t worry, nephew.” Peter murmurs, looking faint and far away. “I don’t plan on it.” He says, pushing himself up from the floor.

Derek frowns, studying is uncle. “Are you okay?” He asks.

“Perfect.” Peter says, shuffling through broken glass and passing tipped over furniture as he walks towards the exit.

“You forgot your jacket.” Derek points out. Peter ignores him.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

**Miranda Tate**

**(1972-2002)**

**Loving wife and mother**

Peter locates the gravestone quickly. He stares at it, mind turning over spent possibilities and soiled opportunities. He feels the breeze caress the side of his face, kicking up the smell of Chris on the borrowed clothes Peter’s wearing. The small comfort is far-outweighed by the regret.

Peter looks at the fresh tulips on the grave. They must be from Mr. Tate. He has good taste, Peter thinks, looking at the yellow bulbs. There’s another bouquet on the grave next to Miranda’s, for her other daughter. Peter stares at them, taking in the way they’re lovingly placed on the memorial.

Footsteps draw Peter’s attention. He waits till the person’s next to him before looking up and meeting Chris’ eye.

“Victoria’s just over there.” Chris explains quietly, gesturing to the rows on the other side, near the trees. 

Peter nods sedately and looks back down at Miranda’s grave.

“Allison in the hospital kind of brings it all back, you know?” Chris says.

“I can imagine.” Peter replies, glancing at the hunter. He moves his hand hesitantly and pats Chris awkwardly on the shoulder.

“What about you?” Chris asks. “What are you doing here?”

Peter gestures at the gray stone. “Malia’s mother.” He says, letting his hand drop back at his side.

“Miranda?” Chris mutters, face scrunching in thought. “That wouldn’t be the Miranda from prom, would it?”

Peter looks at Chris in surprise. “You remember?” He asks. The prom memory isn’t one of the ones Peter managed to get back.

Chris tilts his head in confusion. “You don’t?” He asks.

Peter could roll his eyes at himself, realizing that of course Chris would remember. “No.” He answers, eyes tracing the letters of Miranda’s name. He can feel the weight of Chris’ stare burning against the side of his face. “Talia took some stuff.” He says, tapping his temple.

Chris frowns. “Why?”

Peter sighs. “She was a,” He grasps for an adjective, “complicated leader.” He concludes.

“Is that good or bad?” Chris asks.

“Depends on whose side you’re on.” Peter says.

“And if I’m on yours?” Chris asks.

Peter looks up at him, staring into the hunter’s eyes and feeling the world slow. “She took my child from me.” He whispers.

Chris’ hand wraps around his, holding it in a gentle grip. Peter squeezes his fingers and looks down at the graves.

“Malia’s dad,” Peter mutters, trailing off and clenching his jaw.

“Does he know?” Chris asks quietly.

“No.” Peter says. “Miranda told him Malia was his.”

Chris nods.

Peter sighs, glancing at the grave beside Miranda’s. “He already lost a daughter.”

“So did you.” Chris points out.

“I asked Talia to take the memory away.” Peter confesses guiltily.

“What?” Chris asks.

Peter pulls away from him and turns, staring out at the view of Beacon Hills from the cemetery. “She took Miranda’s memories of me and I…I couldn’t live with them out there, not knowing who I was.”

“That’s not a bad thing, Peter.” Chris says, staring at him seriously.

Peter sighs, reaching up and wiping a hand over his face. He clears his throat, shoving his palms in his jeans and watching the clouds move up ahead. “I hated Laura.” He says quietly.

Chris frowns, watching him.

“I hated all of them, but Laura…she had so much power. She was Talia’s little girl, the next alpha.” Peter says. “She got everything. And I loathed her. She was just a child but I hated her voice and her scent and the way she looked.” He lets out a breath and steadies himself. “And I could never figure out why.”

The hunter studies Peter carefully, taking in the frown lines around his mouth and the haunted look in his eyes.

“I was relieved when the fire happened.” Peter says. He’s never let himself acknowledge that, plagued as he is by burning flesh and ash and screams, some part of him, some part that was so filled with hate, was glad for it. “Then I survived and Laura put me in a hospital and left me rotting for six years, like I was nothing. Do you know how many years of my life I wasted catering to that little brat? And then when I needed help, she just tossed me away, like I didn’t even matter. I wasn’t any use to her anymore. I knew then that I was going to kill her.”

Chris falters, not sure how to react to that.

“I’d thought about it before, but I never had the nerve.” Peter confesses. “But that was it. She was the alpha and she trapped me in Beacon Hills, just like her mother.” He looks over at Chris, taking in the guarded expression on the hunter’s face. “I’m not a good man, Chris. I thought I could be, but I’m not.”

Chris steps closer, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder and staring earnestly into blue eyes. “Stop that.” He says. “You’re gonna go back to New York and you’re gonna keep taking those ridiculous selfies of you having breakfast in your douche-y scarves and thousand dollar jeans and things are gonna be fine.”

Peter stares back at the hunter. “You think my scarves are douche-y?” He asks.

“Stiles’ word, not mine.” Chris says.

“But you agree?”

“Yes.” Chris says. “But it’s just another thing I love about you.”

Peter’s breath catches and Chris falters at the slip. The hunter shakes his head.

“I’m not gonna ask for anything, Peter.” He says.

“Good.” Peter replies. “Because I don’t have a lot to offer right now.”

“I’d settle for a phone call.” Chris says.

Peter’s eyes crease with the hint of a smile, even when his lips can’t summon one. “I can do that.” He says.

“Good.” Chris replies, giving a small stroke to Peter’s hair. “And Spring Break’s not too far away, Allison and I will see you then.”

“You’re talking like I’m leaving now.” Peter notes.

“That’s because I know you.” Chris says.

Peter’s lips manage a twitch. “That you do.”

“You can keep the clothes.” Chris offers, nodding to the jeans and t-shirt Peter’s wearing.

Peter relaxes. “I left my suit at your apartment.”

“You want to come back and get it?”

He shakes his head. He and Chris are pretty much the same size, funnily enough, so he’s fine leaving it with the hunter. “Keep it.” He says. “You can wear it to Allison’s graduation. And I want pictures.”

Chris nods. “Allison wouldn’t mind seeing you there.”

Peter hesitates then frowns regretfully. “I think this is the last of Beacon Hills for me.” Unless someone has another emergency but Peter doesn’t add that, preferring to wait and see how he feels when it happens.

“What about Malia?” Chris asks.

“She’s better off where she is.” Peter says. Chris nods and Peter looks at him, studying his features and letting them burn into his memory. “I’ll see you.” He says, figuring he’ll leave the goodbye there.

“Yeah, you will.” Chris promises. Peter moves to head over to his car and Chris stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “And Peter,” He says, “I think you’re a better man than you realize.”

“You’re wrong.” Peter says, looking at Chris with a gentle expression. “But it’s just another thing I…” He hesitates. “Like about you.” He says, backing out of quoting Chris directly.

“I’ll take it.” Chris says, grinning.

“Good, because it’s all you’re getting.” Peter says.

Chris pats his shoulder before letting his hand fall back down at his side. “Goodbye, Peter.”

“Bye, Chris.” Peter says, turning away and walking to the parking lot.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Chris turns out to be right. Once Peter gets back to New York, he feels himself breathing easier. It’s still a rough transition for the first few days and Peter’s assistant doesn’t miss the tension and unease surrounding the wolf, but Peter settles after a while. Mostly by drowning himself in his work.

He stays at the office late and gets in early, he goes to parties and schmoozes, he gets out and around and takes selfies of him in “douche-y scarves” and, when all of that’s done,  he goes back to his empty apartment. It’s not really anything to report home about, so when he calls Chris, there isn’t much to tell him. They make conversation somehow anyway. After he finds out how everyone’s doing, he and Chris share idle chit chat, avoiding tricky subjects like how they feel and what’s going to happen between them. It’s tense, but better than not talking at all.

For a temporary routine, it works great. Peter gets by, slowly sorting through jumbled thoughts and re-awakened hurts. That burning hatred that once gripped him isn’t entirely gone, but it’s settled mostly, unable to find a place in his new life in New York. The hollows and scars are there, aching noticeably in the still moments, but they’re manageable for the most part.

Peter lets himself get suspended for a while in the fog of New York and work and conflicting emotions. He stares out at the city, letting himself experience quiet contemplation. He grieves the little baby he lost and considers the young woman that took her place. He tries to figure out whether he’d have been a good father or not and he’s never quite sure. He supposes, in the end, it doesn’t really matter.

Peter buries himself in solitude and shields himself in work, drawing his emotions closer and closer to himself. He hears from Chris that Lydia’s a bit of a mess. She saw more than Peter, got more of his memories than she ended up sharing, but he doesn’t ask about them. He doesn’t really want to know anymore.

It’s a relief when Chris and Allison come up. Allison’s doing better. She’s still healing, but she’s able to move around and she seems nearly as chipper as usual when she greets him at the airport. Chris is comforting and nerve-wracking in turns, but always gorgeous. Peter puts Allison in the spare room and lets Chris take his. Peter sleeps on the couch.

He makes breakfast in the morning, staring down at the pan and fighting against memories of the months he spent with Fake Chris. It’s getting easier to ignore that year, but only marginally. It’s only been about six months since the incident, and while the fresh memories of Miranda and Malia eclipsed it for a while, Peter now finds the Fake Chris pain and the Miranda pain intermingling. Peter sighs, grabbing the spatula and concentrating on the task at hand.

“Smells good.” Allison says, shuffling over. Peter smiles politely at her and tries to pretend he wasn’t wallowing. Allison’s sharp eyes catch the frown lines. She looks away, out at the living room. “Your apartment’s nice.” She says, going over to the window and staring out at New York.

“I enjoy it.” Peter says.

“I bet.” Allison mutters, taking in the city. “Must be expensive.” She says before flushing and looking back at Peter. “Sorry, that wasn’t tactful.”

Peter grins in amusement and shakes his head. “It’s okay. It is expensive.” He says, scooping some breakfast on a plate for her.

“You must be pretty good at your job.” Allison says, coming over and collecting the offered dish of food.

“I do okay.” Peter says quietly.

Allison chews her eggs and stares around the place.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks.

Allison nods. “The bed’s really comfortable.”  

“Good.” Peter says, watching her softly. She catches his wistful expression and shifts uncomfortably.

“What?” She asks.

Peter stiffens and looks away. “Nothing.” He says quickly. He’s saved from further inquiries when Chris comes out of the bedroom. Peter’s gaze lingers on the sleep mussed hair and the wrinkled sweats. He catches his scent on the hunter and feels a deep rumble form in his chest. He buries it, getting a plate ready for Chris and trying not to let his emotions show.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Peter winds up taking a few days off work to show Chris and Allison around New York and look at colleges. He catches Chris’ eyes on him with growing frequency and it’s difficult to ignore the tension that crackles in the air between them. Peter feels raw, stripped open by it, and it’s jarring after the static of the last few weeks.

Things come to a head the night before Allison and Chris are supposed to leave. Peter’s in his study, looking through stocks. It’s almost midnight and he’s in his pajamas. He’s supposed to be sleeping, but he couldn’t manage it. He’s having one of those nights where he can’t quite settle. It happens more frequently than he’d like to admit.

There’s a short knock then the door cracks open, revealing Chris’ curious face. “Hey.” The hunter says quietly.

“Hey.” Peter says, glancing at the clock. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” Chris says. “Couldn’t really sleep.”

Peter nods sympathetically. “Me neither.” He admits.

“Work?” Chris asks, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

“Yeah.”

Chris comes over, leaning back against the desk and studying him curiously. “How are you?” He asks.

Peter glances at him and sighs. “I’m fine.” He says.

Chris narrows his eyes. “Peter.” He says.

Peter leans back in his chair tiredly. “I’m managing.”

Chris nods. He looks down then over at Peter. Chris’ composure falters slightly and he scratches uneasily at his chin. “So, uh, are you dating?” He asks awkwardly.

Peter snorts. “If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“You could.” Chris says.

“There’s nothing to tell.” Peter says. “Why? Are you dating?”

“No.” Chris answers. “I thought about it, but…” The hunter shrugs. “There’s not a big market for forty-year-old, single dads anyway.”

Peter takes in the stress lines in Chris face and the strain in his posture. He chews his cheek, debating for just a moment before getting out of his chair and grabbing Chris’ wrist. “Come on.” He says gently, leading the hunter away from the desk. Chris follows curiously.

“Where are we going?” He asks, when Peter turns out the study light and opens the door.

“We,” He says, pulling Chris out into the hallway, “are going to bed.”

Chris’ breath catches. The hunter doesn’t protest or falter and Peter keeps going, guiding them into the bedroom. The entrance clicks shut and Peter pulls Chris into a kiss, heart hammering at the gloriously familiar feeling of the man’s lips on his. He walks Chris back towards the bed and pushes the hunter down onto it, moving to straddle him.

Peter’s shirt comes off quickly and Chris presses burning touches into the wolf’s skin. The hunter leaves searing kisses on his neck and slides his palms down, gripping at his ass. Peter gasps, holding back a moan as he pulls on Chris’ shirt, tugging the hem up until Chris is forced to remove his arms and lean back to get the garment off. When the shirt’s over his head, the hunter dives forward, sucking a mark into Peter’s collarbone and slipping his hands down the back of his pants. Peter’s eyes flutter shut and he slides a hand up, threading his fingers into Chris’ hair and encouraging the man’s questing lips. Chris grips at his ass, making him arch down against Chris’ groin. The thin material of their pajama bottoms means Peter can feel him in rich detail. Desire and hunger coils around him, working against the empty sorrow and making him feel properly alive for the first time in a month.

The last time they had sex had been good. It had been great, even, but this is different. They’re at Peter’s apartment in Peter’s bed, far away from Beacon Hills and tainted memories. There’s no anguished emotion hanging over their heads, driving them into each other's arms. It’s just want, fresh and new and clean.

They strip down and Peter grabs the lube from the nightstand. He pauses for just a second, studying Chris’ face. He takes in the longing written there, mixed with that other, more frightening emotion that Peter’s too much of a coward to name. Peter kisses him, soft and yearning as he presses the lube into Chris’ palm. The hunter wraps an arm around Peter’s waist and rolls them over, pressing him gently back against the pillows and comforter. He makes love to Peter’s lips as he opens the lube, slicking calloused fingers. He prods at Peter’s entrance and the wolf opens his legs for him, letting the rest of himself follow in the process.

Their mouths come apart and Peter looks up at Chris, dropping his façade and his composure and just letting himself be. He feels all of who he is in that moment - a raw wound, a broken predator, a man so corrupted by greed and selfishness that he’s not sure he understands generosity anymore. At some point, Peter stopped living and started festering, breaking down into the rotten core that lays beneath Chris. The hunter sorts through the debris, touching every putrid part of him like it’s something precious. Chris opens him, tracing against fragile nerves and finding the areas that remind Peter that he’s still living.

Peter gasps quietly, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes as Chris’ mouth presses hungrily against his skin and Chris’ fingers reach eagerly into him. He feels desire in each of Chris’ movements. He smells want wafting off the other man like a perfume. He hears a loving embrace in the way Chris says his name, working over each letter like they’re just as beautiful as the whole of it. Peter’s so distracted he almost misses the question.

“You ready?”

Peter blinks and realizes his eyes are wet. He looks down, meeting Chris’ gaze and arching up against the hunter. “Come on.” He urges, voice choked.

Chris leans up, stroking Peter’s cheek gently. “You okay?” He whispers.

“I’ll be better when you’re inside me.” Peter says, because even if he wanted to, he couldn’t articulate everything he’s feeling at the moment. Chris nods, pressing a quick peck to his lips while he slicks himself up. Peter stills as Chris moves forward. The hunter pushes in, working past the tight ring of muscles to get himself inside of Peter. The wolf’s eyes flutter shut and he holds back a moan. It burns, it always does after this long, but that’s soothing in its own way. Peter’s not sure he could handle pleasure all on its own anymore.

Chris rocks in gentle movements and Peter wraps himself around the hunter, clinging to him like a lifeline as he’s taken somewhere transcendent and beautiful. He’s passive in the journey, letting Chris move him and maneuver him. Chris seems to detect that he needs this, whispering words into his ear, telling him how beautiful he is and how perfect he feels. Peter would usually scoff, but he just holds tighter, pressing gasps into Chris’ neck and quivering.

They’re careful to be quiet the whole time, releasing strained, muffled noises into each other’s skin and turning moans into gasps. Chris’ hand finds Peter’s, lacing their fingers together and holding it down into the sheets. Peter grips tightly, throwing his head back and letting wet drops fall at the corners of his eyelids as he’s driven closer to the edge. Chris holds him tightly, surrounding himself with warmth and the hunter’s heady scent. Peter comes from Chris’ movements alone, releasing his pleasure between them. Chris whispers his name, talks to him gently as he follows after, filling the wolf up.

They hold each other afterwards, stroking hands softly over flushed flesh. Peter tucks his face into Chris’ neck and tries not to let his vulnerability scare him. Chris is going to be leaving in the morning, Peter reminds himself. He doesn’t have the time to not appreciate this, because it will be gone long before he’s ready for it. It always is.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

4 months go by.

Most of it is spent on contemplation and quiet phone calls and static living. Then something changes. Somewhere along the way, and Peter doesn’t know when or why, he starts to feel…better. Not good, necessarily, but better. He stumbles into a friendship with one of his contacts around town and then he’s doing normal, human things like meeting people at restaurants or “hanging out.” It’s ridiculous and he’s sure everyone back in Beacon Hills would laugh and gape at the sight, but Peter’s actually out there, experiencing things he never allowed himself to before. He still prefers to keep to himself.

Peter’s favorite place is a bookshop down some back alley a few blocks away from his apartment complex. It’s quaint and homely, with overstuffed armchairs and, for some inexplicable reason, a cat named Tuppence. Peter skirts passed the occult section for weeks before sticking his head in. He discovers a surprising number of useful books and starts a small collection back at his place. He doesn’t think it will be good for practical application, but then he accidentally helps Chris solve a case and figures it’s more useful than he thought.

Work becomes less of a thing to distract him and more something he enjoys. He stops ignoring his coworkers and actually attends one of his assistant’s poetry nights. He meets an interesting fellow when he goes into the backyard to escape Mark’s 10 minute poetry slam about Mindy from accounting. Peter goes home with the guy and doesn’t even have a breakdown the next morning.

Another month passes and Peter goes on a couple dates and has a few flings. He thinks he ought to feel guilty, like he’s cheating on Chris, but he doesn’t. It’s cathartic to just be casual for a while.

It’s a total of five months before Peter sees Chris again. It’s late September. Allison’s off taking a gap year with Isaac. Everyone else is spread out at different colleges, except for Malia who needs another year in high school. That turns out to be for the best, since Mr. Tate’s health has taken a turn. Ever the planner, Peter’s been talking with a discreet lawyer about ways to get Malia’s trust fund to her without inserting himself into the picture. He thinks it will involve a lot of morally ambiguous and legally punishable behavior, but he’s not too terribly worried.  

Chris comes up to New York. Peter’s not too sure what the hunter’s plans are and he doesn’t ask. Chris stays in a hotel rather than Peter’s apartment and the wolf’s not sure why. He figures Chris is just trying to keep his distance and somewhere in Peter’s mind he thinks Chris must be trying to tell him that this thing between them is done. The suspicion should be crushing him, but Peter thinks it’s better than lingering and waiting. He’d rather have this be over than for him to get strung along.

Chris asks Peter to meet him one morning in the park. Peter mentally rehearses the breakup in his head. He goes through different emotions and different lines as he throws on his clothes and shoes. He lets out a steady breath as he pulls on his scarf and tucks his keys into his pocket.

“It’ll be okay.” He whispers as he opens the door. He realizes it’s a good line and figures he’ll use that. Chris will make his big speech, they’ll officially close the lid on this thing between them, and Peter will tell him it’s okay. It’ll hurt for a little while, but then he’ll fine.

Peter heads down to the park. He sees Chris in the distance, sitting on a bench and frowning. He looks nervous and Peter can see the thoughts burning behind furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. The wolf backtracks, retreating to the coffee vender and stalling by buying two lattes. He heads back, coming up behind Chris and trying to look casual.

“Morning.” He says, holding out a coffee cup. Chris looks up in surprise, eyeing the drink curiously before taking it.

“Morning.” Chris says, offering him a smile.

“You wanted to talk.” Peter says, figuring he’ll get this rolling.

“Yeah, I did.” Chris says, looking down.

Peter sits down on the bench, watching the trees and letting the hunter collect his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking about us.” Chris starts. “I was thinking now that Allison’s out of school, now that we’ve had some time, maybe we could start over, do this thing for real.” The hunter looks over at him.

“But?” Peter prompts.

“But you keep looking at me like that.” Chris says. “I’d be fine, starting from the beginning with you. But if you don’t trust me, if you don’t trust that this thing’s going to end well, it’s not gonna work.”

Peter nods. He doesn’t waste time lying to Chris, because the truth is he doesn’t trust that this thing won’t go south. “So what now?” He asks.

“So what if we didn’t start from the beginning?” Chris says.

Peter looks at him in surprise. “What do you mean?” He asks.

Chris studies him and Peter hides a nervous fidget by fiddling with his coffee cup. “Let’s get married.” Chris says.  

Peter freezes with his drink halfway to his lips. He frowns at Chris, staring uncomprehendingly. “What?” He asks after a moment.

“I mean it, Peter.” Chris says seriously. “Let’s get married.”

“Married…” Peter echoes. He looks away from Chris and runs a hand over his forehead. He stares out at New York, at the trees, trying to wrap his head around this. He turns back to the hunter with narrowed eyes. “So what’s it gonna be this time?” He asks. “I’m halfway down the aisle and you change your mind? Or maybe you’re possessed? Or this is some sort of trap?”

“Peter.” Chris says, protesting. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Peter says. “How many times are we gonna try this before you realize it doesn’t work?” He says. Bizarrely, he’s more upset now than when he thought they were breaking up. Not because he doesn’t want to marry Chris, but because it feels like another moment of false hope. 

“That’s why we shouldn’t wait.” Chris says.

Peter’s brows furrow. He takes a sniff, wondering if Chris is dying or something, but he smells normal. “What do you mean ‘shouldn’t wait’?” He asks.

“Let’s get married today.” Chris says. “Right now.”

Peter studies the hunter, taking in the earnest, determined expression. “You’re serious.” He says more than asks.

“Waiting doesn’t work with us, Peter.” Chris says. “And I’m tired of not being with you.”

Peter swipes a hand over his face. “I don’t want to leave New York.” He says.

“I’m not asking you to.” Chris says.

“Long distance marriage? That’s your solution?” Peter says incredulously.

“No, jackass.” Chris snaps. “I’d move here.”

Peter’s heart skips. “You’d do that?”

Chris nods.

“Why?”

“Because I love you, idiot.” Chris says softly.

Peter snorts. “What about Allison?” He asks.

“She’s 19. She doesn’t need me around all the time, and if she does, she can come here.” Chris says. 

Peter eyes him warily. The problem is, he just doesn’t trust him, not after everything.

“God, Peter, please stop looking at me like that.” Chris says, reaching forward and tracing his finger’s over Peter’s brow, trying to smooth out the creases. He wants to get the distrustful look off Peter’s face. “I know I fucked up before, and I know the shifter…” Chris sighs, dropping his hand onto the bench. “I’m not him. This is me, Peter, and I’m not backing out and I’m not gonna regret this. I want you. I always have.”

Peter watches him uncertainly. “I’m not dressed to get married.” He points out quietly. He’s casual today, wearing his pea coat and scarf over jeans and a t-shirt. He’s got beautiful suits back at his apartment, but he has no plans of going back and changing into one. If they do this, there are going to be no pauses and no detours, because then he’ll have time to talk himself out of it.

“You look perfect.” Chris says, tugging on the soft blue material around Peter’s neck. Chris leans in close, stroking his thumb over Peter’s jaw and leaning his forehead against the wolf’s. Peter’s eyes slip shut and he takes a steadying breath.

“Okay.” He says. He blinks, looking into blue irises and making out the flecks of gold inside. “Okay.” He repeats.

“Yeah?” Chris asks.

“Yeah.”

Chris grins. He grabs Peter’s hand and pulls him up, tugging the wolf along. “City hall’s this way.”

“You’re prepared.” Peter mutters suspiciously.

“Not really. I don’t have rings.” Chris notes.

Peter shrugs. “I was never a big fan of jewelry anyway.”

Chris narrows his eyes and glances at him. “I’m getting you a ring.” He says. “And I expect you to wear it.”

Peter smirks. “Bossy. I like it.”

Chris smiles and focusses back on marching them eagerly toward City Hall.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Peter and Chris’ wedding is informal, ridiculous, and absolutely perfect. Their witnesses are an elderly couple they befriend in the lobby and the only wedding photo they wind up with is the one Chris takes on his cell. Peter and Chris are facing each other, the wolf’s palms resting on Chris’ chest and the hunter’s arm thrown around his back. Chris is smiling broadly at the phone while Peter’s hiding his face in Chris’ neck. The wolf’s grin is still visible.

Chris posts the photo to Facebook before they head to the nearest jewelry store, buying simple gold bands that they place on each other’s fingers. It’s not a dream wedding, but it’s the one Peter’s always wanted. He just wishes he could stop wondering when it’s all going to go wrong.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

18 months. It’s 18 months before Peter can stop worrying that everything’s going to blow up in his face. Chris is patient with him. The hunter realizes there’s nothing he can really do to change Peter’s mind, so they just live their lives and he starts to relax and realize that things are going to be as okay as they can be. His apartment becomes their apartment and slowly fills up with Chris’ things. The guestroom becomes Allison’s room and the empty room in the back that Peter never had a use for becomes a weapons storage unit. At work, Peter introduces Chris as his husband and puts pictures of the guy on his desk. Their lives harmonize and it’s pretty good.

It’s a Tuesday when Peter wakes up and realizes everything’s okay. The sun’s shining through the windows and he stares at his husband, watching sun reflect off flaxen hair. He lets his fingers trail slowly over Chris’ warm skin, marveling at the weight of the wedding ring moving between his finger and Chris’ torso. He takes in the gentle rise and fall of Chris’ chest and feels the steady beat of the hunter’s heart against his palm. He’s woken up to this sight hundreds of times now, but it’s still not old. He’s not sure it ever will be, given the long, hard road it took to get here. Usually the memory of it fills Peter with fear, making him wonder when the pattern’s doomed to repeat itself, but at this moment, it doesn’t. He remembers it now and all he can think is that it was worth it. He got his happy ending with Chris. It took them 25 years, but they got there.

“Hey.” Chris says, blinking his eyes open and grinning at him.

“Hey.” Peter whispers.

There’s a wail from the next room and Peter groans.

“Miranda’s crying.” Chris notes unnecessarily.

“Thanks, I couldn’t tell with my werewolf super-hearing.” Peter grumbles. Chris laughs behind him and Peter rolls his eyes.

Oh yeah, they got a baby too.

Peter heads into the room that used to be his study, going over the small crib and looking down at the baby girl. He picks her up, rocking her slowly and thinking yeah, he’s got it pretty great.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

**_March 26th, 1988_ **

_“You think we’ll be okay, you and me?” Chris asks, looking down at Peter curiously. They’re supposed to be having a sleepover at Chuck’s house, but they’re actually in some skeevy hotel out of town, lying naked under the covers. It’s not the most romantic location, but it suits their purposes._

_The wolf frowns, looking up at the hunter. “I don’t know.” He says, nose wrinkling. “Why wouldn’t we be?” He asks._

_Chris shrugs. “The whole thing with your family and my family.” He says. “Could get messy.”_

_Peter lays back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I think if you really love someone, you find a way, you know?” He says._

_Chris glances at him curiously. “Do you love me?” He asks._

_Peter purses his lips and looks over at the blond._

_“Because I love you.” Chris says, watching him closely._

_“I love you too.” Peter admits shyly._

_Chris beams, settling in next to the wolf. “So you think we’ll find a way, you and me?” He asks._

_Peter thinks about it and nods. “Yeah, we will.” He says. “Just watch, someday we’re gonna live in some big fancy apartment far away from here.”_

_“We gonna have pets?”_

_“Maybe a cat.”_

_Chris snorts. “Thought you were a dog person.” He says._

_Peter sneers. “Funny.”_

_“I know.”_

_Peter shoves him playfully. “Shut up.”_

_“Make me.” Chris challenges, cocking his eyebrow._

_Peter rolls his eyes but grins. He leans up, pressing his lips to Chris’ and sighing contently. He thinks they’re going to be just fine._


End file.
